


Let's Get Together

by imdeansgirl



Category: Parks and Recreation, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Government, M/M, Mild Language, Parks and Recreation Fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall is the Deputy Director of the Parks and Recreation Department in Pawnee, Indiana. All that's great, until Isaac Lahey (budget consultant and former kid mayor) steps into his life and it all goes to hell.<br/>(Note: You really don't have to have seen Parks and Rec to read this. Just know that it's a government au.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Master Plan

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! this fic was brought to you by my lovely friend alison ([the post and request can be found here](http://dorkmccall.tumblr.com/post/126067773620/parks-and-rec-au)), and i might be continuing it! you don't really have to have watched parks and recreation to know what's going on, so don't be scared off by that. :p i'll put a little character key at the end. have fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's park plans are put on hold by two state auditors. Malia has plans for Kira. Stiles tries to piece together a romantic mystery.

Let him set the stage: it’s Malia’s birthday. Wait, wait. That was lame. Let him start over. You know what, no, it doesn’t even matter. Skip ahead to Malia opening her gifts.

“Here, let me help you.” Scott reaches down to help open up the giant, framed piece of cork board. 

As soon as she lays eyes on Scott’s gift, she doesn’t smile. To be fair, he didn’t expect that, but. It would’ve been nice surprise. “Cool,” Malia says dryly. Though, in her defense, it’s probably as much enthusiasm as she can muster on a given day. “Documents!”

“Yes!” Scott says, his grin broad. “This is your original parking pass, your original intern application, your original photo I.D.—“

“Wait,” Malia cuts in with a frown, pointing at the photo I.D. “Did you get that out of my purse?”

Scott just shrugs and carries on. “Doesn’t matter. And a copy of your first paycheck!”

Just then, Erica speaks up. It’s the first time he’s heard the blonde say anything all day. “Wow,” she says sarcastically, “who’s that from?”

In turn, Scott rolls his eyes. “Me,” he explains, unwilling to let his cheerfulness waver. “It’s from me!” He grins at Malia. “Happy birthday,” he says sincerely, and she smiles tight-lipped back at him. “Sorry it’s a little sentimental, and sappy, but it’s always nice to remember the beginning of things and—“

“Open mine next.” Over his shoulder, Derek is staring, bored and unamused as always, with his arms crossed and frown set. Malia shrugs, reaches over and opens up the poorly wrapped package. As soon as she flips the little box open, Scott nearly drops to the floor in shock, and Derek grins proudly. Malia yelps.

As soon as the situation fully registers, he sighs and turns to his boss. “Derek,” he says, “for God’s sake.” He rolls his eyes and puts his own gift down on the floor.

“She’s a responsible adult now!” Derek explains, still grinning. “She should know how to responsibly handle and discharge a weapon.” He points down at the gun they’re all staring at. “That there is a sig sauer .22 caliber mosquito.” He slugs Malia on the shoulder lightly. “That model is perfect for a skinny little thing like you.”

The case slowly closes under Malia’s hand. “Gee,” she says, “Thanks, Derek.”

He reaches out and takes it from her. “I’ll hold onto that until we get you licensed,” he says sincerely. “And then I’ll take you out for some target practice.” With that and a wink, he walks away, back into his office, closing the door behind him.

Scott frowns after him, but turns back to the group. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands together. “You’ve opened mine, and certainly Derek’s. Did we miss anyone?”

A hand shoots up from the back. “She can open mine next!”

If Malia could bare her teeth like a wild animal, Scott swears she would every time Jackson speaks. Instead, she just turns her head sharply and glares. “Stuff it, Jackson,” she bites, before turning back to Scott. “I think I’m going to go visit Kira,” she says, and Scott nods. It’s often that Malia goes to visit the shoe-shiner down the hall, so he lets her pass without any qualms. As soon as the door clicks behind her, Scott turns back to the three remaining with a grin. “Okay,” he announces. “Back to work!” They all roll their eyes (except Jackson) and go back to their stations.

\--

If asked and/or tortured, Malia wouldn’t say she had a _crush_ on Kira. She might privately label it that in her head, and so might everyone else, but she would _never_ say it out loud. “Yeah, I’d love to hear about your family’s vacation!” she hears Kira saying as she walks up to the shoe shine stand.

“Hey,” she says, and then she looks up at the customer. “Beat it, Harris.”

The old government worker rolls his eyes, but stands and wanders off anyway. Kira, meanwhile, shoots up from where she was crouching on the ground, and grins. “ _Hello_ birthday girl!” she exclaims, and they high-five. It’s eerily similar to what Scott and Stiles do on a regular basis, but Malia ignores the thought. “Ha, did you like that?”

Malia grins at her. It’s not often that she does anything with her mouth besides make sarcastic remarks, but for Kira, she smiles. “Yes,” she says.

“Great! That high-five was your birthday present!” The smile quickly slips into a frown, but Kira simply laughs. “Just kidding,” she says, tossing her long, black hair over her shoulder. “That wasn’t it. I got you something else.” She takes a deep breath before announcing nervously, “I wrote you a song.”

 _That_ grabs Malia’s attention. She raises her eyebrows and grins again. “Seriously?” she asks. “For me?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, well, what’s it called?”

But Kira just smirks. “Not telling,” she teases. “But I will tell you that it’s named after a word that begins with the letter ‘m.’”

After a minute, Malia quirks her eyebrows again. “So… Malia?”

The coy smirk slips into an awkward frown. “Uh,” she says, “no. But that would’ve been… much better. Probably.” Malia chuckles, crosses her arms. “But, you know, whatever. I can rewrite the lyrics.”

At that, Kira goes quiet, and Malia decides there’s no better time to ask. “Are you, um,” and she shuffles on her feet, a sign of embarrassment she wouldn’t dare betray anywhere else. “Are you coming to my party?” she asks eventually, and Kira raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah!” she says animatedly. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, are you kidding me?”

“Okay, cool.” Malia walks around her and begins walking down the hallway, backwards. “Maybe we’ll hang out then?”

“Yeah, sure!”

“Awesome.”

Thus begins her birthday. She’s officially twenty-one—the age where pretty much everyone agrees you’re really an adult.

\--

“In the words of the great nineteenth century outdoorsmen Jack London, ‘You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.’ It is with those words ringing in our ears that we proudly present our plans for a new park on municipal lot forty-eight.”

After he’s finished, he looks up to find Stiles smiling at him. “That’s good!” he says warmly. 

Once Malia’s small party was over, Scott hauled ass over to Stiles’s house to read him sections of the “master plan.” Stiles thought it sounded evil and kind of shady, but really, it’s not much to fuss over. It’s the yearly budget and planning proposal for a city. It’s mostly filled with boring bureaucratic language, but Scott figured Stiles might want to hear at least that part.

He beams now at his best friend. “You think so?” Scott asks excitedly.

Stiles nods avidly into his coffee cup. “Of course,” he says. “That is easily the most exciting budget proposal I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I’m presenting it today,” Scott says nervously. “If all goes well, we should have the money to build a new park.”

“That’s great!” Stiles exclaims. “I knew we could do it!”

It seemed like yesterday that Stiles had complained about his girlfriend Kira falling into the pit next to their house, but it had been well over a year. Almost fifteen months since they started this journey, and it seems like it’s almost done. “The meeting starts at ten. If you want you can come over after for champagne,” he offers, but Stiles wrinkles his nose.

“Not sure if that’s a good idea,” he objects.

It takes Scott a moment, but eventually realization dawns on him and he nods. “Right,” he says. “Theo.” He reaches over and pats his friend on the knee. “How you holding up?”

A few days ago, Stiles broke things off with his boyfriend (turned almost fiancé, thanks to a disastrous telethon and Scott’s insane scheming), the city planner, Theo. Scott’s learned to turn up his nose whenever he enters a room to Stiles’s defense, though it’s kind of almost his fault they broke up in the first place. (Even though Stiles insisted he was going to break up with Theo anyway, Scott couldn’t help but feel some of the guilt was on him.)

“I’m okay,” Stiles confirms, with a slight nod. “I’m just desperate not to talk about it. So if we could maybe hold off on the big sentimental talk…?”

Scott nods. “Got it, got it.” They stay there like that until Scott has to go back to work.

\--

It’s not often that Scott walks into the office to see Erica standing on Malia’s desk, but when he does, it certainly doesn’t surprise him. “Ladies and gentlemen!” she announces, waving around a stack of papers. “This is your final warning! Do _not_ dare to miss tonight’s special event, Malia Tate’s birthday bash!” With the help of Derek, she jumps down off the desk and onto the floor, handing invitations to Derek, Scott, and Malia in one swoop. She slides across the room, hands one to Jackson and Lydia. “Nine o’clock P.M. at the world famous Wolf Den Lounge! The place the Pawnee journal has called—“ she leans on her palms on the desk and grins, “—the sexiest, most dangerous club in town.”

Scott looks at her dubiously. “That’s not what they wrote.”

She rolls her eyes. “ _Fine,_ ” she says. “I added the word ‘sexiest.’ But now we have better security.”

A little while ago, Erica decided to open up her own club. It’s called the Wolf Den Lounge, and Scott has only been there once, but he can safely say that it is both terrifying and totally unsafe. Mostly because it’s being run by two children—Erica, who has the mind and attention span of a six-year-old, and her best friend/partner in crime Aiden, who is literally the worst person to trust with anything. But Erica offered to throw the party at her lounge, and who were they to say no to such a seemingly kind gesture? However, Scott knows that this also has to work to Erica’s advantage somehow. Which might be why she invited all the good looking men in Pawnee to the party.

Either way, he simply sighs and focuses in on Malia instead. “Can’t believe our little girl is all grown up,” he sighs, hugging her from behind. “Oh, damn the wheel of the world. Why must it continually turn over?”

From the doorway, Derek flicks his eyebrows. “Jack London,” he acknowledges. “Nice.”

“Thanks,” Scott beams. He pats Malia on the head before going around her desk to tug on Derek’s shirt sleeve playfully. “Come on, boss,” he announces cheerfully. “Time for a meeting.”

Derek couldn’t look less thrilled. “Yay,” he says unenthusiastically. “Whoopee.”

It’s not a little-known fact that Derek hates working in government. He works there because his mother worked there, and his father worked there, and his uncle still works there. In fact, he hates working in government so much, he’d once said, “The government should only consist of one man, and the only decision he should ever have to make is whether or not to nuke another country.” To Scott, who thought that the only way to improve the world was to work in government, this was totally the wrong attitude to have, but whatever. Anyway, Derek may hate all of his government job, but he _really, really_ hates the reading of the master plan. He thinks it’s just a bunch of branches of government getting together to announce what they want to waste taxpayer’s money on. “To a libertarian such as myself,” he mutters, “it’s philosophically horrifying.” He pauses, frowns, and adds, “Also, they really cheap out on the snacks.” Scott just rolls his eyes before pulling Derek into the conference room.

Everyone’s already there by the time they arrive, and Derek’s uncle, Peter, rolls his eyes and motions for them to take a seat. Scott does while Derek wanders over to the snack table. “Great,” Peter says. “Now that everyone’s here, I would like to announce something.” He clears his throat and adjusts his collar. “I know you’re all very excited to show us your proposals. Especially you, McCall.” Scott frowns at him, but doesn’t argue. Mainly because it’s true. “But there’s been a change in plans. We’re putting off all spending and budget decisions indefinitely.”

There’s dead air, until Scott speaks up. “Um, until when?”

Peter just raises his eyebrows. “Indefinitely.”

“Right. When will that end?”

“… Later than now.”

“So, like, the end of this week, or…?”

Sighing, Peter moves around to sit on the edge of his desk. “Look. Scott. We’re on the brink of a crisis. The state is sending in a team from Indianapolis to try to solve this budget problem. We have to disband any and all plans to spend money for the time being, until we can get this all straightened out.”

\--

 _Thud._ The giant master plan hits Derek’s desk with a satisfying noise. Rolling his eyes, Derek glances up to open his mouth and say something, but Scott cuts him off. “I was prepared for everything,” he says calmly. He reaches down and flips open the book, reading directly from the pages. “‘In the event that the master plan meeting is cut short,’” he reads. “‘In the event that I have laryngitis and cannot read.’ ‘In the _event_ that the _master plan meeting_ is moved onto a _boat_.’” He slams the book closed. “The only thing I was _not_ prepared for was the even in which there _was no_ master plan.”

The boss reaches up, presses at his eye sockets with the palms of his hands. “Look,” he says. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. You don’t even know what they’re going to do yet.”

That’s the frustrating thing about Derek. He always tries to be so calm and levelheaded. Scott throws up his arms, and they flail about in a very Stiles-like fashion. “They’re auditors, Derek!” he exclaims. “They’re not going to come _pat us on the back!_ They’re here to slash and burn!”

After a moment, Derek nods. “I would be more than fine with that,” he announces, and Scott rolls his eyes, preparing for the incoming rant. “This government is diseased. It’s like… a big, fat, angry slob spending money it doesn’t have on crap it doesn’t need.”

And really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else. “That’s what government _does,_ Derek,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “It provides services. They will try to eliminate _everything_ we do. We have to _fight_ these guys!”

Running a hand through his hair, Derek just sighs before reasoning, “They’ve been sent by the governor, Scott. They outrank everyone sitting in this office. There’s no fight to be had here.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m totally not going to fight them—except that I totally am!”

Derek sighs, stands, and crosses to put an arm over Scott’s shoulders. “Scott. When we get this angry, what do we do?”

“I’m not a child, Derek.” Eventually though, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “Count backwards from a thousand by sevens and think of warm brownies and small puppies.”

“Right,” Derek says, nodding slowly. “Go do that in your office while we wait for these guys to get here.”

Scott nods. Although he feels like a petulant toddler, he shuffles off in the direction of his own office.

\--

“No, no. Tommy, all you need to bring is your own gorgeous body.” The door creaks open, and Erica glances up to see Kira headed in her direction. “Hold on. I’ll call you back.” She spins around and grins. “Hey, partial business partner!” Kira had helped to open up the Wolf Den Lounge with some of the money she had left over from the latest tour of her band, _Foxy and the Moxies._ “You coming to the party tonight?”

“Yeah, of course!” she exclaims, and Erica grins. “Just wanted to ask you a quick question—how old is the youngest person I could date, would you say?”

At that, Erica gently rubs her chin in thought. “Hm,” she murmurs. “Well, the rules are different for guys and girls. If you were a guy, I would say to cut your age in half, and add seven.”

Kira blinks. “I’m twenty-four. That would be nineteen, right?”

“Right. But you’re not a guy. So, the rule for girls is, take half your age and add by ten.”

Since Malia is only just barely twenty-one, and the math comes out to twenty-two, it seems like she’s not going to get the answer she wants. “Okay,” she says slowly. “But, they’re just… a little younger than that. Is that okay?”

Erica just shrugs and blows air out of her mouth in a huff. “Probably totally fine,” she says. “Just don’t get too crazy.” She winks just as her phone rings. Checking the caller I.D., she does a little dance before unlocking her phone and holding it to her ear. “Hey!” she says animatedly. “Nice to hear from you!” Kira makes a motion over her shoulder, and Erica grins and waves.

As Kira walks away, she takes solace in the fact that Erica says it’s okay. Which, says a heavy knot in her stomach, _probably_ means it’s not okay at all.

\--

“Well,” Derek sighs, stepping out of his office and smiling encouragingly at Scott, “Peter called. They’re on their way.”

“Oh, God,” Jackson moans from his desk. “They’re gonna fire people, aren’t they?”

Scott shakes his head and turns to Jackson, holding up his hands, trying placating the employee. “Relax, Jackson, we don’t know that. They could be perfectly nice people, very helpful and kind and pleasant—“

“Uh, hello,” says a voice from behind him.

They all turn to face two people, covered in black clothing and cobwebs and wrinkles. “Ah!” Scott yelps. “Death!”

The older woman frowns at him, but the old man asks, “Divorce filings?”

Derek rolls his eyes and points up. “Fourth floor,” he says.

They nod before walking out, and turn to leave when a woman in a pantsuit enters, grinning. “Hello, hello!” she says, and turns to the old woman. “Oh. Hi!” The old couple nod before exiting.

The woman skip-hops her way over to Scott and Derek, a man trailing behind her. The girl has wavy brown hair that bounces with each step, and the man has a heavy frown and obscenely beautiful blue eyes. “Hi,” the woman gushes, sticking out her hand first to Derek and then to Scott. “Allison Argent,” she announces. “And this is Isaac. We’re the team from Indianapolis.”

“Hello,” Derek says, nodding. “I’m Derek Hale.”

She grins and points. “ _Derek_ Hale,” she says, and Derek just frowns at her.

Scott decides it’s time to cut in before he potentially kills her. “I’m Deputy Director Scott McCall,” he says.

He shouldn’t be surprised when she turns and points at him, grinning, and says, “ _Scott_ McCall.” But he kind of is anyway.

“Would you like… a tour, maybe?” he offers.

Over Allison’s shoulder, Isaac shakes his head avidly. “I would _literally,_ ” Allison says, beaming, “love _nothing_ more than a tour of Pawnee’s Parks and Recreation department, with you, Derek Hale, and you, Scott McCall.” She leans slightly over her shoulder, not breaking eye contact with Scott while doing so. “Isaac?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea…”

“Great!” Allison announces, clapping her hands together. “Let’s do it!”

As the tour goes on, Scott comes to realize that Allison is the most positive state budget auditing consultant he’s ever met. It’s almost unsettling how endlessly cheery she is. Even just making eye contact with her is like staring into the sun. Isaac, however, is almost constantly frowning at one thing or another. It’s not unsettling, just. Kind of rude.

“Okay,” Allison announces once they’ve all gathered around, “we are here from the state budget office from Indianapolis. What we’re basically going to be doing is a little tinkering here and there to make your budget more cost-efficient.” She points over her shoulder to where Isaac is leaning on the desk, frowning. “My partner Isaac is going to stick around for a little bit, and _I_ will be back later.” She waves over her shoulder as she leaves. “Adios!”

As soon as she’s out the door, Isaac shuffles over to Scott and Derek. He’s a lot taller than Scott thought, since he looms over Scott and is an inch or two taller than Derek as well. “Do you have a second?” he asks, and Scott nods.

\--

Sitting across the table from Isaac, Derek sitting awkwardly stiff at his side, is possibly the most awkward ten minutes of his life. No one says anything, Isaac just flips some papers over and pulls out a calculator. Eventually, Scott can’t take the silence anymore and blurts out, “I really like your shirt.”

Slowly, Isaac lifts his eyes to make eye contact, one eyebrow raised. Eventually, he says, “So, I’d like to talk about where you think the most waste is in the department.”

Scott just frowns at him, his mouth hanging open, but next to him, Derek grins. “Where do I even start?” he asks cheerfully. Under the table, Scott kicks at his shin, and Derek grunts. “What exactly will you be cutting?” he asks, lifting his brow. “And how much of it? And is there any way I could watch you do it?”

Ignoring him, Isaac shifts a few papers around. “Let’s start with some of the personnel,” he suggests. He pulls out a file, slides it across the table towards Scott and Derek. Jackson’s face grins up at them. “What can you tell me about Jackson Whittemore-Mahealani?”

Derek opens his mouth, but Scott quickly cuts in. “Universally adored,” he lies. “One of the most amazing people on this planet. If you fired him, there would be a literal revolt.” Next to him, Derek snorts in the most un-Derek-like way Scott has ever heard anyone do anything.

Isaac sighs and runs a hand through his mess of curls. “Okay, this is what you need to understand,” he says. Scott assumes it’s a tone that’s trying to calm, or maybe placate him. It _kind of_ just pisses him off. “Just to keep this town going, it’s a high probability that we’ll have to cut the budgets in _every_ department by forty to fifty percent.”

Scott frowns, glances from Derek back to Isaac. “But… Allison just said tinkering.”

Huffing, Isaac explains, “That’s because _Allison_ is a hopeless optimistic, and _tinkering_ sounds better than _murdering, slaughtering,_ or _running through and gutting with a machete._ ”

At that, Derek actually _giggles._ Scott widens his eyes at him. He doesn’t even know who he’s working for anymore.

He turns back to Isaac and announces, “You’re a jerk.”

Isaac _actually_ looks taken aback by that. “Pardon?” he asks.

“Pardon _me,_ ” Scott says, and Derek sighs before putting his head in his hands. “These are real people, living in a real town, working in a real building, with real feelings.”

Blinking, Isaac asks, “The building has feelings?”

Though it doesn’t happen often, Scott is told that when he gets angry, his nostrils flare. Which is probably why both Derek and Isaac are glancing nervously at his nose. “No,” he mutters. “But _we do._ And the _building_ has a lot of history, in a very historical town.” He throws up his hands. “How can you be so… okay with destroying our lives like this?”

At that, Isaac’s eyes narrow, and he tilts his head. “ _I_ didn’t cause the problems in this town, Mister McCall,” he says. “Your government did.” He sighs and stands, begins gathering his things. “I’ll get what I need from the spreadsheets,” he mutters, before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

The two left sit in silence for a few minutes, watching him leave the office and Erica, Lydia, Jackson, and Malia frowning after him, before eventually, Derek asks, “Is there a heterosexual way to ask him to go camping with me?” Scott just grunts in disgust before getting up from his chair and going back to his own office.

\--

“Ai _den!_ My main man!”

“Looking good, Wall- _E_!”

As she watches them do some sort of convoluted handshake, Malia glances around the lounge and back down to her phone. “ _Whoa,_ ” she hears, and then Aiden has slid up to her. His gross cologne fills her nose and his skinny, bony frame is up against her arm. “ _Damn,_ girl, who you trying to impress?” He huffs and adds on, “Just kidding, I know.”

She just glances up at him and narrows her eyes. “Walk away,” she instructs, and he lifts his hands and steps back in surrender.

Just then, the telltale sound of clicking heels can be heard, and Lydia emerges from behind a bouquet of halfhearted birthday balloons. She pauses mid step and glares. “Aiden,” she greets lukewarmly.

Aiden bites his lip. “Ma’am,” he squeaks, before turning around with his tail between his legs to go hide behind Erica.

After the nuisance is out of her way, Lydia bounds up to Malia, beaming. “I got you a birthday shot!” she singsongs, and holds out one of the shot glasses filled with a murky pink liquid.

But Malia simply wrinkles her nose. “Thanks,” she says, “but I’ll pass. Now that I’m actually legal, I’ve kind of lost any and all interest.”

Lydia simply shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she says, before downing both shots at once. She moves away, towards a pretty dirty blonde boy with a warm smile. Malia just blinks. She isn’t sure whether she loves, fears, or admires her redheaded friend. It might be some kind of mixture of all three.

A few feet away, Scott and Stiles frown into their drinks. “Guess our park plans are on hold, huh?” Stiles mutters, nudging Scott with his elbow. Scott only shrugs. “You have _no_ idea what they’re gonna cut?”

Scott just shakes his head. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p.’

He takes another swig of his drink, and Stiles sighs. “You should just totally screw those guys over,” he suggests. “You know? Make up your own budget plan, go rogue.”

Though the idea is appealing, Scott shakes his head again. “I don’t know if I could just play God like that,” he murmurs. “An angry, vengeful, revenge-getting God who fires Jackson for no reason.”

Stiles follows his line of eyesight to where Jackson and his husband, Danny, are laughing at something Lydia’s saying. “You’d fire Jackson?” Stiles asks.

“Not necessarily,” Scott denies, and Stiles nods. “I don’t know, man, today has just sucked.” He frowns at Stiles for a minute before asking, “Where were you earlier when I called?”

Almost choking on his drink, Stiles admits, “Talking to Theo.” Scott raises his eyebrows, which must be an indication of what he wants to say, because Stiles sighs again. “I know, I know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. “It’s been a really rough week.”

For a minute, they’re quiet, until Scott asks, “Do you want to get _stupid_ drunk?”

Smiling fondly, his best friend reaches up and pats Scott on the cheek. “You know me too well,” he whispers. “Flag down our waitress. I want _shots,_ McCall.”

Ten minutes later, they’re playing quarters. Scott cheers as a quarter makes it into his glass. “ _Chug_ that bitch,” Scott announces, pointing to Stiles’s beer.

“Oh no,” Stiles says sarcastically. “Damn it, I guess rules are rules.” He reaches down and picks up his beer, bringing it to his lips.

Once he’s done, Scott reaches out and grabs his face. “No, no, no. Stiles, listen to me. Really listen.” Stiles nods slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “I know that I had a master plan. Right? Did I lose you? Okay, good. Anyway, the master plan, it blew up in my face. But _you._ You came to a town hall meeting, and we met, and we’re best friends, and that’s awesome.”

Between his hands, Stiles nods avidly. “ _So_ awesome,” he agrees avidly. “ _So, so_ awesome, Scotty. _You’re_ awesome. I _love you._ ”

“I love you too,” Scott replies. “But I need so, so much more beer.”

Grinning, Stiles replies, “I just had _the best_ idea.” He throws his arms up and announces, “I’m gonna get you more beer!”

Finally releasing his best friend, Scott reaches for another quarter. “Whoo!” he cheers. “Best friends forever.”

\--

It’s been almost an hour, but Malia finally spots Kira standing awkwardly in the middle of the crowd. As she approaches, Kira beams. “Hi!” she exclaims over the music. “Wow, you look _amazing._ Can I see?” Though Malia avidly denies her, Kira keeps going. “Come on, can’t I see a twirl?”

“No,” Malia says shyly. “Don’t look at me.” Kira immediately looks at something over her shoulder. “No, no. Look at me.”

Kira goes back to beaming at her. “Happy birthday,” she says again. “Can I get you a drink? Actually. Wait.” She reaches into the pocket of her colorful skirt, rifles around in her wallet. “Yeah,” she says eventually, “I can do that. Can I? Do that?”

“Whiskey,” Malia says, staring her dead in the eyes. “Neat.”

Kira blinks. “Wow,” she says. “You’re not messing around.”

“No,” Malia agrees. “I’m not.”

With that, Kira hastily exits towards the bar. On her way, she passes what she thinks is Erica’s friend Aiden, whose arms make him look like he’s having a fit. “Barkeep,” she addresses the bartender, a stoic black man who looks like she means business. She’s about to ask for a neat whiskey when she hears, “ _Kira Yukimura!”_

She turns to see Stiles, leaning heavily on his arms. “Oh,” she says, smiling. “Hey, Stiles. What’s up?”

“Not much, not much. Let me ask you a quick question: was I a good boyfriend?”

Beaming at him, Kira nods. “Stiles, you were the best boyfriend.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning on his hand. “Aww.” He reaches up, rubs her arm with the palm of his hand. “That’s so sweet!”

“Yeah! I mean, I was totally the screwup.”

“Eh, only a little.” Across the lounge, Kira can see Malia scowling at them. Stiles doesn’t seem to notice as he keeps going. “We had a good relationship, right?”

Kira squints. “Um, I think so? I mean, we fought a lot.”

She doesn’t expect him to start avidly nodding, but that’s what he does. “Yes,” he says. “Yes! I knew that. I know that. Let me ask you something.” He reaches down, begins to pull his sweater over his head to reveal a t-shirt underneath. “Listen. I’m hot.”

Chuckling, she reaches over to try and help him untangle his long, gangly arms from the confines of the sleeves. Nervously, she says, “I’m not sure that’s really a question.”

Since she hasn’t glanced over, she hasn’t noticed Malia, still glaring at them, drag Aiden over to her by his shirt. Stiles keeps going. “In our relationship, was there ever a time where you were like, ‘If I don’t see Stiles in _ten minutes,_ I’m going to die?’”

Immediately, Kira nods. “All the time,” she says, and Stiles beams.

\--

Eventually, she makes her way back to Malia, hands her a neat whiskey. “Sorry that took forever,” she says sincerely. 

Then, bounding over the couch, the guy she passed by earlier lands on the seat. “Hey, baby,” he says. “Miss me? I missed you. Oh!” He sticks out her hand to Kira. “I’m Aiden,” he says.

Nodding slowly, Kira replies, “Kira.”

“That’s a nice name!” Aiden says, plopping back down on the couch and flinging his arm over Malia’s shoulders.

“Right. Um, are you two, like—hanging out together?”

At that, Malia smiles. But not her pretty nice smile; it’s her vindictive, _try and mess with me again, jackass_ kind ofsmile. “Guess so,” she says. “He kind of asked me out so many times it just wore me down.” Kira nods awkwardly, glances around.

“I’m _very_ persistent,” Aiden says, nodding. “One time, I waited outside a girl’s house for _five days._ Turns out it was the wrong house, but she loved the story anyway and we made out in her mom’s broom closet.”

“That’s _so_ cute,” Malia says, wrinkling her nose and smiling a little too unconvincingly.

“Super cute,” Kira squeaks awkwardly, her eyes wide.

Aiden claps. “I’m going to go get us all a round of Remy-Martins. Huh? On Erica!” He jumps up and scampers back over the edge of the couch.

“Um, you can have mine,” Kira offers, a sad smile on her face, she’s sure. “For your birthday.” Malia looks like she wants to say something, but she turns on her heel and walks off. She really thought Malia liked her. Maybe she’s just bad at picking up signals. Either way, that Hayden guy is kind of a dick.

\--

Meanwhile, Erica trails from table to table trying to get laid. Each guy or girl—from model, to fireman, to basketball player, to freaking _Miss Pawnee_ (who, by the way, she helped _win_ that title)—graciously accepts her offer to buy them a drink, then turns her down. She even tries every play in the book, but to literally no avail. Everyone turns her down.

Aiden trails behind her, talking about some _girl_ with some ass. She turns around, glares at him. “Aiden, if one more word comes out of your mouth, I will _literally_ rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

He shuts up very quickly after that.

\--

“You know what’s thirsty? You know what’s drunk—weird? How thirsty I get when I’m weird. When I’m drunk.”

Stiles nods solemnly, like this makes the most sense out of anything in their lives. “Right.”

Across the bar, he sees Derek and Lydia in conversation. Lydia nods solemnly as Derek says something, and that’s when Scott sees him. They retain eye contact for about ten seconds before Scott begins slapping Stiles on the shoulder. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Isaac the jerk is here.”

Stiles’s head springs up and he gasps dramatically. “Who are?!”

“That one. With the eyes. The eyes that are coming here. That’s Jerksaac. Ijerk.”

Nodding avidly, Stiles reaches over to adjust Scott’s collar. It’s just a t-shirt that he threw on after work, so he’s not sure why it needs adjusting, but it feels right. “Okay, Scotty. Remember—you are a _professional._ Something. A professional something. Maybe a soccer player. I don’t really remember.”

“Hi.”

Their heads both snap to look up (and up, and up, and up) at Isaac, who’s doing this _weird thing_ with his face. Almost as if he heard that, he reaches up and touches his mouth. “What’s wrong with my face?” he asks, and Scott blinks.

“Did I say that out loud?”

Without taking his eyes off Isaac, Stiles leans in and stage-whispers, “You totally did.”

Scott nods thoughtfully, then gestures up at Isaac’s face. “It’s like a smile-frown thing. It’s like… butter sweat. Bitter sweat?”

“Bittersweet?” Isaac offers, scrunching his eyebrows.

As if that was a cue, Stiles jumps in with a song. “She knocks me off of my feet! And I can’t help myself, I don’t want anyone else!” As he continues, he wraps his arms around Scott’s shoulders and sings a muffled version of the song into his t-shirt.

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the singing drunk person hanging all over Scott, Isaac sighs and says, “Look, I just wanted to apologize, because I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I just wanted to stop by—”

“Yeah, well, save your breath, _Isaac,_ ” he says, glaring. “And just… get your _jerk face_ out of here. This is a party with… with _all_ my friends, and you’re trying to _fire_ them all.”

Isaac frowns. “I—”

“Plus,” Scott interrupts, “plus, plus, plus. I just took a poll. Of everyone in this bar. And they all said that they didn’t want you here.”

Biting his lip, Isaac just looks at him for a second before saying, “That must’ve taken a while.”

Nodding exaggeratedly, Scott says, “Yeah, it _did._ But it definitely didn’t even take that long, because everyone told me that they don’t want a cold, callous person who wants to kill people with machetes hanging around this awesome party.” He points at the person hanging onto him. “And Stiles, Stiles is right!”

Stiles’s head automatically springs up and he looks at Scott. “I am?”

Ignoring his best friend, Scott continues. “I should just, just _totally_ make my own plan,” he says. “And blow you out of the water, so you can’t hurt us. That’s—you know what, I’m going to do that.”

“Whoo!” Stiles cheers, diving back into his shoulder. “Go Scott!”

A confused, befuddled Isaac just squints at him until saying, “Uh, okay. I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yeah!” Scott says. “I guess you will.”

“Sorry to bother you.”

“Get out of here!”

With that, Isaac turns and heads in the other direction. A sniffling Stiles sits up and squeezes Scott in a sideways hug. “Scott,” he says. “That was so professional. And I am so, so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Scott says, squeezing him back.

\--

Shuffling into his office is awful. The first thing he hears being, “Oh, thank God, you have to help me” in Stiles’s loud, squeaky voice is even worse.

Scott’s hand flies to his head. “Ow,” he whispers, slipping behind his desk and promptly plopping into his office chair. “Not so loud.”

At least Stiles is as miserable as he is, though, because he nods. “I know,” he says, “me too. But seriously, bro, you have to help me.” He sighs, shifts around under the giant jacket he’s using as a blanket, and leans forward to look into Scott’s eyes. “I think I may have made out with someone last night.”

Really, Scott’s kneejerk reaction shouldn’t be to laugh, but it is, and he does. Because that is hilarious. “Oh, no,” he says through his laugh. “Who?”

As Stiles explains, it’s only funnier, and he keeps laughing. “I don’t know,” Stiles is saying over his friend’s laughter. “I don’t even know what happened, really. I woke up this morning, and I had this, like, feeling that I definitely kissed somebody.”

“ _Hey._ Stiles.”

Both boys slowly turn towards the doorway, where Jackson is grinning at Stiles and leaning on the doorframe. Jackson tips his head. “Crazy night last night, huh?”

Stiles glances, panicked, at Scott. “Uh—uh, I mean—I guess.” He swallows heavily. “Crazy?”

Arching an eyebrow, Jackson nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Danny and I left at 11:15 and you were still partying hard.”

Blatantly, Stiles breathes a sigh of relief and blesses himself. “Thank you, God,” he murmurs, before slumping down farther in the chair. Between that and the confused look on Jackson’s face, Scott starts laughing again. Headache be damned.

“MCCALL! MY OFFICE!”

Jackson scurries away, wide-eyed and afraid, and both Scott and Stiles wince. “Why the yelling?” Scott whispers, but he stands and slowly makes his way towards Derek’s office. On the way, he passes Malia, who has her head down on her desk, and Lydia, who’s filing her nails as if she didn’t almost drink Scott under the table last night.

When he gets to the office, Derek holds out a cup of coffee without a word, and Scott takes it gratefully before sitting down in one of the visitor’s chairs. “So,” Derek sighs, tapping on the desk with a pen. “Did you enjoy your night last night?”

Scott shakes his head sadly and takes a sip of his coffee. “Not really,” he admits.

Thoughtfully, Derek nods before asking, “Did you enjoy your _second_ loud conversation with Isaac, the state auditor who holds all of our fates in his hands like a tiny, dying baby bird?”

Wincing, Scott says again, “Not really.” He looks at his coffee, and then back to Derek. “But you know what? He deserved it. He’s mean, and rude, and I yelled at him.”

Yes, he’s fully aware he sounds like a grumpy child. But he isn’t wrong. Derek huffs a laugh through his nose and replies, “Believe me, Scott. I want this government cut to the bone. But you can’t get fired, because then I’ll have to _do_ things.” He waves towards the door. “Go apologize.”

Stubbornly, he tries to insist, “But—”

“Go.”

Realizing that, unfortunately, Derek is right, he sighs and leaves for Isaac and Allison’s temporary office.

\--

The bar is still standing. After the night they had, Erica is almost surprised. She suspects Aiden either went home with someone, or is still puking in the bar’s bathroom. Either way, she shuffles inside. The guy behind the bar—a tall, dark, muscular man with a small smirk—looks her up and down as she walks in. “What can I get you?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“I need to close my tab. Erica Reyes.”

He reaches up behind him, pulls a tab from the wall, and whistles, low and heavy. “You bought forty-seven drinks last night?”

She shrugs. “I invited, like, twenty-five hot people out to the bar and bought them drinks.” She sighs heavily, leans on her elbows. “Didn’t really work out, I guess, because I’m here. Alone.”

He nods, starts scribbling on the slips of paper with a pencil. “Maybe, if you wanted to go home with someone, you could’ve hit on just one person instead of the entire county of Pawnee.”

Can’t argue with that. Still, she rubs her neck sheepishly. “Maybe I was hoping for a twenty-six way?” she offers.

The guy shrugs. “That would have been totally awesome,” he admits.

“Yeah, but I only have, like, fourteen breasts, so… eleven people would have been really disappointed.” He laughs, finishes up with her tab, and hands it to her. “Thanks.” She goes to leave, but turns around and squints at him. “Hey. Would you, um, maybe like to go out for drinks tonight?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Does it have to be here?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “Sure, then. Uh, I’m Boyd. Let me just give you my number.”

Erica beams to herself.

\--

When Scott enters, Allison is taking pills with a glass of water. She waves him in animatedly and sets down the glass. “Scott, Scott! Welcome, welcome, welcome!”

The desk she’s standing in back of is lined with files and tchotchkes, normal desk supplies, but also what seems like a million bill bottles. “That’s a lot of bottles,” he says, frowning.

“Oh, yeah! Want a vitamin? B12? Evening primrose oil? Willow bark? Magnesium?” He shakes his head, and she holds up a bottle. “You sure? Really good for hangovers.”

He stares at it for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I guess one won’t hurt.” She puts one in his hand before explaining that she _literally_ (and he’s noticed that she says that a lot) takes care of her body more than anything else. “Diets, exercise, supplements, positive thinking,” she rattles off. “Scientists believe that the first human being who’ll live a hundred and fifty years has already been born.” She beams and hooks her thumb towards herself. “You better bet you’re looking at that human being.”

Allison may be positive, but she’s also kind of just shy of really weird. So he just nods slowly. “So,” she says, clapping her hands together. “What brings you here so early?”

“I’m here to talk to Isaac, actually.”

She beams. “Great!” she says. “I’m going to listen to some ocean sounds and do some chin-ups.” For whatever reason, he thinks that she’s joking. But she _so_ isn’t as she puts on some headphones, clips an MP3 player to the belt cinching her waist, and walks over to a bar above the door a few feet away.

“What’s up?”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Scott turns to see Isaac pouring over a few files. “Oh, God, I didn’t see you. Um.” He chews on his lip, nervously, and sits in the chair opposite Isaac. “What I did… was out of line. Twice. And I’m really, really sorry about that. I just.” He sighs. “I got worked up because you represent a threat to my department—”

Shaking his head, Isaac cuts in. “ _We_ aren’t a threat to you,” he says, waving his head between him and Chin-Up Girl. “Your city council and your mayor got you into this mess.”

Scott squints at him, and says, “Okay, look, Isaac, I really don’t appreciate your attitude—“

“— _Really_?” he interrupts sarcastically.

“Yeah! Really! And you may hold my fate in your hands like a dying bird, or whatever, but that will not stop me from thinking that you’re an ass!”

Isaac pauses, and asks eventually, “Do you want to get a beer?”

What? Scott blinks. “It’s, like, 10:30 in the morning.”

“Yeah, but you could really use a beer.” Isaac sighs as he grabs his wallet off his desk. “Later, Allison.” Scott doesn’t know whether he’s frightened or impressed when she removes one hand from the bar to wave at him, still smiling.

\--

Kira beams at Stiles. “You have _no idea_ what happened last night!” she exclaims excitedly—a little too excitedly, in Stiles opinion.

He brings his hand up to his head and winces. “No,” he admits.

And Kira keeps grinning. “You are _so_ not the blackout drunk type, Stiles,” she says, and laughs before shaking her head. “But no. We didn’t make out last night. There’s, uh.” Her smile drops, and she swallows. “Someone I really like, and I wouldn’t do that to them.”

Stiles isn’t quite sure what to say to that. “Cool,” he says eventually, frowning. “See you.”

\--

“This beer,” Scott announces, “is really, really good.”

Isaac just nods, takes a swig of his own beer. “Told you that you needed one,” he says. “How’s your head?”

 _Catastrophically painful_ seems apt, but dramatic, so he settles for, “Mushy.” Isaac nods like that makes sense. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that… I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He winces as he strikes another mark into the tally. “All three times. But, it’s really stressful being in government. I don’t think you really… understand anything about my department. Have you ever worked in a body of government before?”

Scoffing, Isaac adverts his eyes to his beer, stares down the neck of it to the bottom. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “I have. In a small town called Beacon Hills, California.”

Immediately, that strikes a chord somewhere in Scott’s head. “That sounds so familiar,” he frowns. “Why does that sound so familiar?” He flashes back to a few years ago, when a small town in California was almost wiped off the map, and he gapes before grinning. “You’re _the_ Isaac Lahey? Little Isaac Lahey?”

Swigging again, Isaac nods. “The very same,” he sighs.

A few years back, an eighteen-year-old boy ran for mayor of a small town in California and won. The thing about eighteen-year-olds, though, is that they’re all stupid, and so that mayor—Isaac Lahey—pretty much ran the town into the ground. After two months, he was impeached. “ _And_ my parents grounded me,” he mutters around his beer.

“Oh my God,” Scott laughs. “I totally remember that. You were so cute!”

The tips of Isaac’s ears go pink. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

Not even seeming to notice, Scott snaps his fingers. “What—oh, God, what was the song you played at your swearing-in ceremony?”

Smiling shyly and rubbing at the back of his neck, Isaac says, “Uh, _Whoomp, There it Is._ ”

Scott laughs so hard that every occupant of the bar (not many people, considering it’s 11:00 A.M. in the middle of the week) turns to stare. “God,” he says, coming down from the laughter. “God, I was so jealous of you back then.”

Isaac shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have been,” he says. “It kind of ended up ruining my life. I mean, now I’m crunching numbers and balancing checkbooks so I can show people I’m responsible.” He sighs. “All in hopes of running for office someday and, you know, not being laughed at.” He smiles softly, and gestures to Scott. “Kind of like that.” He sighs. “I mean, do you want to run for office someday?” Scott nods. “Well, you gotta be able to make decisions like this, Scott. You have to be harsh sometimes. No one’ll elect you for anything if you can’t show that you’re a responsible grownup.” He sighs and reaches into his pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, no,” Scott says, shaking his head and pulling out his own wallet. “Please, Mister Mayor, let me.” He pulls out his credit card and drops it on the table. “ _Whoomp! There it is!_ ” He starts cackling again, and Isaac simply rolls his eyes and blushes.

\--

“Hey, Derek, did we make out last night?”

Never in their years of working together has Scott ever seen Derek’s bushy eyebrows climb higher on his head. “Good God, Stiles,” he says, blinking. “No.”

Stiles sighs, throws his hands up. “That’s it!” he exclaims. “I’ve asked Kira, Malia, Lydia. God, I even thought maybe _Jackson,_ but no. No one.”

The door to the office clicks open, and Allison emerges, leading some other people in suits out. “Well, that was great, guys!” she beams. “I’ll see you later.” She steps out, closes the door behind her, and stops dead in her tracks when she sees Stiles. “Oh,” she says, then smiles again. “Hey! Stiles Stilinski”

Stiles nods slowly, smiling back. “Hey…” he says. Suddenly, it’s all coming back.

_“Uh, Malia’s party? Malia’s party”_

_Stiles blinks at the very attractive girl standing in front of him. “Hey,” Erica says from behind him. “How’s it going?”_

_“Hi,” Stiles says slowly. The girl turns to say something to Erica, but he shakes his head and pulls her away. “No, no, no. C’mere, attractive stranger. Come with Stiles.”_

Spilling his guts out to her about Theo, singing _Life is a Highway_ on karaoke, and finally, making out with her when she tried to get him into a cab. Right. It’s all there now.

“Fancy this,” she says, putting her hands on her hips and beaming at him. “Well, I’m in meetings all day, but I’d love to maybe talk to you later. Can I call you?”

Stiles frowns at her. “I gave you my phone number?”

She shakes her head. “No, you couldn’t remember your phone number.” She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a very familiar iPhone. “But you gave me your phone.”

“Great,” Stiles says quickly, taking the phone from her before retreating back as far into his seat as he could get. “Great, yeah, we will definitely talk later.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling, before turning to Scott and Derek. “Well, come on in!” As she and Derek walk away, Scott is half-gaping and half-beaming at Stiles from his chair.

“We should talk later too,” he says, as he gets up and walks towards the office. “Yeah, a meeting. About things. That happened. In secret.” He gives him a thumbs up before entering the office and closing the door behind him, leaving Stiles to stare blankly in his wake.

\--

“Scott, this plan is amazing,” Allison gushes, flipping through the papers in her hand.

He beams, and turns to Isaac. “It has a lot of suitable cuts to many of our programs,” he lists. “Totally affordable, totally doable.”

The curly-haired blonde nods. “I’m impressed,” he admits.

“But,” Allison sighs, plopping down in the chair across from him, “it’s entirely moot.”

Scott blinks at her. “What?”

“Our investigation,” Isaac says gently, “has proven to us that things are much worse in Pawnee than we thought.”

“What does that mean?” Derek asks, raising his brow.

Allison sighs, and Isaac continues. “As of tomorrow morning, all of Pawnee government will be shut down until further notice.”

Do you know the feeling when you put on a really nice jacket that cost, like, a hundred dollars, but it doesn’t fit anymore? And it makes you feel bad about not only your current self, who doesn’t fit into the jacket, but your past self, who was stupid enough to buy the jacket? That’s how Scott feels. Derek beams, and Scott shakes himself. “Sorry, I just started hearing really loud circus music in my head,” he says nervously. “What did you say?”


	2. Freddy Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac prevents Scott from throwing a children's concert. Erica enjoys time with her boyfriend. Kira gets some unexpected romantic attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where this fic starts getting wonky, as far as parks and rec canon goes. i'm going to throw some scenes in and change some things around so that i'm not just rewriting every parks and rec script :p anyway, enjoy!

It’s not that the government being shut down _pleases_ Derek, but he’s not all that sad to see it go. In fact, just quietly sitting in the empty remains of its hallowed halls is kind of cathartic. It’s no longer bustling with unhappy pencil-pushers who haven’t had a good day in their lives, running around _wasting_ the taxpayer’s money, and the unsettling quiet is peaceful, in his own opinion. Okay, so, yeah, the government being shut down definitely pleases Derek.

Sitting in the now empty office of the Parks and Recreation department with a _smile_ on his face, Derek is content to listen to the ticking of the clock on the wall, watching the minutes pass. That is, until just outside the door, a blur of colors goes by, and a voice yells, “Hey, Derek!”

There’s a crash then, and Derek simply curiously raises his eyebrows until Kira comes skating in on rollerblades, her multicolored skirt only slightly ruffled from her crash. “Hello, Kira,” Derek replies cheerfully.

She grins as she nimbly skates in. “It’s awfully quiet in here,” she says, balancing on her skates precariously. “Where is everyone?”

Almost too gleefully, Derek announces, “The government has been shut down.” He then gestures to the morning _Pawnee Paper_ sitting in front of him. “It’s in every newspaper.”

Frowning, she snatches the paper up off the table and squints at the headline: PAWNEE GOVERNMENT IN TOO DEEP? She blinks, turns the paper sideways as if that’ll change it, and asks him, “How long’s it gonna last?”

“Well, if we’re lucky, this building will be empty for months,” he says, crossing his arms and positively _beaming._

She sighs. “That is really bad timing,” she mutters, and Derek raises a brow. “Well,” she continues, “I just got this super rad crotch rocket. Due to, like, never having a job I could never afford it. Until now. I got a really good deal on my lease! I’m paying, like, twelve percent interest.” Derek frowns at her, nods slowly. “That’s one of the highest you can get.” She sighs again and shakes her head. “Anyway, I’ve been trying like crazy to get ahold of Malia. If you see her can you tell her I’m looking for her? It’s, like, really important.”

Derek just shrugs, slipping back into a smile, and nods. “You got it,” he agrees.

“Awesome! Thanks, Derek.” She goes skating back towards the front door, when she pauses for a minute before attempting to launch herself over the front desk. Her legs hit the countertop and she falls, face first, over the desk. Derek quirks his brow, tilts his head, and is about to go over and, well, maybe kick her or something, when she shoots straight up. “Nailed it,” she says sheepishly before skating out of the room.

\--

“All I can tell you is that… all of our parks are closed until further notice.”

The people of the public forum groan loudly and collectively. Scott glances over at Derek, who just looks happy as a peach, and clears his throat. “Look,” he says, “no one is _more_ upset about this than I am.” He frowns. “Not like… it’s a competition or anything. If it was, I would win, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I would win.”

And it’s true. After dedicating his whole life to the service of the people, watching all of his hard work collapse is mentally and emotionally exhausting. His whole career is falling to ruins before his eyes, and it _sucks._

“How long will they be closed?” a woman asks, frowning at him, and he shrugs sadly.

Before he can say anything, though, Derek chips in happily. “Could be forever,” he says.

A man stands up. “With the government shut down, who’s gonna stop Al Qaeda?”

Derek squints at him and goes to say something, but Scott knows better than to mess with crazy, so he just stammers, “Uh, o-one thing at a time, I guess.”

“School is out in two weeks,” says another woman, standing abruptly. “What am I gonna do with my kids? What, am—am I supposed to keep them in my _house_? Where I _live_?”

That seems like that would be the place to keep children, yes, but Scot just shakes his head and says, “I really don’t know what to tell you—”

Another woman stands, her child by her side. He’s pouting sadly up at Derek and Scott as his mother speaks. “What about the children’s concert tomorrow? The one in Ramset Park? The Freddy Spaghetti concert.”

Looking her dead in the eye, Scott swallows and has to deliver the worst news he’s ever had to deliver in his entire life: “Freddy Spaghetti has been canceled.”

Everyone groans again collectively, and the little boy pouts even harder. One by one, the citizens of Pawnee stand and take their leave, striding out the door and into the streets where they once could enjoy public services of the government _despite_ the town’s crippling debt. “Well,” Scott sighs, snapping shut his binder, “I hope you’re happy.”

“I am,” Derek announces. “I am _extremely_ happy, because I don’t think we should be wasting taxpayer money.”

Though he’s known about Derek’s views from the get-go, sometimes he just really sets Scott’s blood boiling anyway. “It’s not a _waste_ to provide fun for kids,” he huffs, putting his binder and other belongings back into his briefcase. “And I, for one, do not enjoy having Freddy Spaghetti’s blood on my hands.”

The only thing he hears as he leaves is, “I think you mean his sauce.” Once he shuts the door, he can hear Derek call, “Just burnt my tongue on my coffee, Scott! Guess what! Don’t even care!”

Rolling his eyes, he puts his car in drive and takes off towards Allison and Isaac’s office.

\--

When she invited her two coworkers and, frankly, two of her closest friends out to lunch, she didn’t expect Erica to be texting her new boyfriend the whole time and Malia to be glaring at a spot on the floor. Ten minutes ago, Erica excused herself to the bathroom (she suspects to have phone sex with Boyd, but who knows?), and it’s getting to the point where Lydia can’t take the silence. “Honey,” she sighs, putting her salad fork down. “What’s wrong?”

Malia squints at her. “What? Nothing’s wrong. Nothing, I’m happy and peachy as always.” Lydia just raises her eyebrows and her friend sighs. “People suck,” she says. “And I hate them. I think stupid Kira who I stupidly like still likes stupid Stiles.”

Sighing, she reaches across the table and takes her by the hand. “Honey,” she says, “I’m going to offer you a tiny piece of advice. You don’t have to listen to it, because you never listen to anyone, but whatever. I’m going to advise you follow the Martin motto: Use him, abuse him, and lose him.” She shrugs and leans back in her chair. “Grandma Martin taught me that. She died last year, at eighty-five. Sandwiched between two twenty-three-year-olds.”

The advice seems not to help, because Malia just groans and lets her head fall to the table. “Hey!” Erica says as she returns. She glances over at Malia. “Whoa, sad sack. What’s the happity-haps?” Lydia rolls her eyes and promptly decides she’s never trying to mingle with her coworkers again.

\--

Breezing into the temporary office of the state budget consultants, he’s pleased to once again find Allison sitting at her desk. “Hey, Allison,” he says warmly.

“Scott McCall!” she exclaims cheerfully. “How can I help you?”

He sighs and announces, “Well, I believe there has been a causality of war in this government shutdown, and it saddens me deeply to say that that causality is Pawnee’s children.”

Nodding, she motions with her hands to the seat in front of her. “Take a seat, Scott,” she says, “tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well,” he says, moving around the chair to sit, “every year we have a children’s concert to start off the summer. This year, the concert has been canceled due to the shutdown.”

Though he didn’t expect the war to be won quite so easily, Allison nods in agreement. “That’s terrible,” she says. “And we need to fix it.”

He just blinks at her. “Oh. Okay! That’s great.” He beams at her. “Didn’t really expect you to agree that fast.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, I love kids,” she says. “You know, I was one once—”

“Wow. Scott McCall.” They both turn to the doorway, where Isaac doesn’t look the _least_ bit surprised to see him. “What a surprise.” He sighs and walks to his own desk across the room. “You know, since the government shut down, only _one_ city employee has tried to schedule fourteen meetings with me in the past two days.” He glances up at where Allison and Scott are sat together. “Can you guess which employee that might be?”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Ha- _ha,_ ” he says dryly, and goes to rebut when Allison cuts him off.

“Isaac. There was a big concert. Now there’s not. Is there _anything_ we can do about that?” she asks.

Though Isaac looks at her like she’s a loose bolt and he’s tired of screwing it back in, he clarifies his answer with a simple “No.”

“Ugh, that’s too bad.” Allison sighs and stands, begins loosening the belt around her waist. “Sorry, Scott. Damn! We were so close.” She tugs the belt off, tosses it to the floor, and reaches down to pull her dress over her head. Scott is about to shield his eyes and die of mortification, but underneath she has on running gear, complete with an athletic t-shirt and shorts. “I have to go run ten miles,” she announces cheerfully, before grabbing her duffle bag off the floor and walking out of the room.

She leaves Scott baffled in her wake. Raising a questioning eyebrow at Isaac doesn’t get him much of an answer. “She does that every day,” he says on a sigh. “For the past eighteen years or something. Something about running all the way to the moon. Don’t ask.”

Nodding, he stands and moves to Isaac’s desk. “Isaac,” he says, carefully, “let’s talk solutions.”

Apparently not carefully enough, because Isaac cuts him off right away. “Scott, Pawnee is _broke,_ ” he says, glancing up from his paperwork. “There is no solution, because there’s no money for a concert, okay?” He shakes his head, goes back to moving his pen on the paper. “You might just have to let this one go. I mean, Idaho cut their Parks department by _eighty percent._ Have you ever been to Idaho? It’s basically one giant park.” 

He sighs and looks up again to stare Scott in the eyes. “Pawnee isn’t special. Your department _isn’t_ a priority. And, frankly, you aren’t even supposed to be in the building.” He reaches over and taps on the badge on Scott’s lanyard: SCOTT MCCALL, PARKS AND RECREATION: NON-ESSENTIAL. “You’re non-essential.”

As he sits back down, Scott steams. He doesn’t have the words, so all he says is, “One, Pawnee is better than Idaho. In literally every way. And two.” He shakes the lanyard. “This totally isn’t even me.”

Isaac raises one weirdly intimidating eyebrow. “ _Really_?” he asks.

“Really,” Scott mocks, before leaving the room and Isaac behind.

\--

A hospital can either be really fast-paced and adventurous, or it can be a really slow place to work sometimes. That’s the kind of day Stiles is having now. No one has gotten in any accidents (which is kind of surprising, knowing _Kira’s_ on a freaking _motorcycle_ somewhere in Pawnee) or anything, so he’s basically just standing in the hallway, waiting for something—anything to happen. What he _is_ expecting is a sponge bath, or something equally annoying but regular for nurses on a daily basis. But what he’s not expecting is an eerily cheery, “Stiles Stilinski!”

When he turns on his heel and sees Allison running down the hallway in running attire, he’s totally thrown off guard. “Allison… something,” he says lamely, realizing quickly he has no idea what her last name is.

“Hi,” she says cheerfully as she arrives in front of him, pulling her earbuds out of her ears. “I was just on my daily ten mile run. I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d pop on in and say hi.”

Looking over her, Stiles frowns. “Did you just start your run?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m already at mile nine.”

It’s impossible. “You’re… not even sweating,” he says. He has the urge to reach out and poke her skin to confirm, but pushes the thought away. “Like. At all.”

Nodding, she says, “I know. I have a resting heartbeat of twenty-eight counts per minute.” He frowns and opens his mouth to interject, but she continues. “The scientist who studied me said that my heart could pump jet fuel up into an airplane.”

As he blinks in her in bewilderment, she keeps talking. “I would love to go out on a date with you,” she says sincerely. “I think… you might find me attractive because you kissed me when you were drunk when we first met. And.” She holds up her hands palm out, as if it’s no big deal. “No pressure, but I do have tonight open.”

He sighs and puts his clipboard on his hip. “I am so sorry,” he says with a frown, “but I am so busy right now—”

“No problem!” Allison cuts in with a grin. “I’ll try again soon, Stiles Stilinski!” And with that, she takes off, back down the hallway, putting her earbuds back in.

A fellow nurse watches her go. “Is that the girl who likes you that you’re not into?” he asks. Stiles nods, and his friend huffs. “Which part of her body are you not looking at again?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Traditionally, when he ends a long-term relationship, he tends to be really fragile and ends up doing stupid stuff. Stupid, reckless stuff. When he and Kira broke up, he bought a home entertainment center and a giant lizard cage. At the time, he didn’t have a television. Or a lizard. The whole thing was kind of a mess, really. Which is why, in his brokenhearted state over Theo, he needs to stay the hell away from Allison.

\--

To say the least, Erica looks decidedly displeased when Scott knocks on her door. She’s in lacy pajamas, her hair curled and pulled over her shoulder in a loose ponytail. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hisses as soon as the door is all the way open. 

Behind her, he can hear soft music playing, and she smells heavily of vanilla. “I kind of really need your help right now. Is this a bad time?” he asks with a frown, and she rolls her eyes.

“Scott, I’m in my sexy pajamas, Boyd is here, and Boyz II Men is playing.” Scott still stares at her, confused, so she clarifies, “Yes! This is a horrible time!”

The realization dawns heavily on him. “You’re about to have sex,” he says on a sigh. “Right. It’s just… Theo quit as city manager today, and the whole city is—hey!”

Erica isn’t listening, though, because ten minutes after the door has been slammed in his face, she hasn’t come back to the door. He pouts before turning on his heel and leaving.

\--

Everyone needs a friend they can call up at three in the morning. And since both Stiles and Scott are usually already awake anyways (and often already on their way over to the other’s house), they’re those friends for each other.

Sitting on a hospital bed together and swinging their legs back and forth, Stiles says, “I think I’m just going to take a break from dating for a while. Really focus on me for a change.”

Scott shrugs. “Sounds perfect,” he agrees. “The only man I really care about right now is six feet tall, with long wobbly arms and crazy hair and a ukulele that doubles as a water gun.” Stiles simply arches an eyebrow at him. “Freddy Spaghetti,” Scott explains, and Stiles hums. “Children just aren’t a priority in Pawnee these days. You know what is, though? Sewage. Pawnee’s children are less important than… poop tubes.” At that, Stiles snorts. “I don’t know. I mean, what are you gonna do? That’s the way it is…”

Then he trails off, because Stiles has that _look._ His thought look. His “we’re gonna get you exactly what you want no matter how we have to get it” look. He goes to open his mouth and ask what the look is for when Stiles beats him to the punch. “If all the parks are closed,” he says slowly, “why not just have the concert in the lot behind my house?”

The Lot, previously known as The Pit, is the project Stiles and Scott have been working on for two years since Kira fell in The Pit and broke her legs. Scott has been trying his hardest to turn it into a park, but to no avail. He’s always been turned down. But today, something good has come of that.

“Stiles,” he says affectionately, “you beautiful, devious bastard.” They beam at each other and Scott throws his arm around Stiles’s shoulders. “Get ready, Pawnee,” he says. “Here comes Freddy Spaghetti.”

\--

The next day, Scott and Stiles get up at 4:30 A.M. and start planning. Scott throws up the Bat Signal for all the people in the Parks department to arrive at promptly eight in the morning. At 7:59, after three and a half hours of frantic planning, he and Stiles sit to await their backup team. “Do you think they’ll come?” Stiles asks with a frown, and Scott swallows.

“They have to, right?” he asks nervously. “These are our friends, and this—this is what they love doing.” He gives another small, half-nod. “They have to be here.”

Though his mouth is telling Stiles yes, his brain is thinking _maybe._ The government _was_ shut down, after all; this isn’t their job anymore. They’re not getting paid to put on this concert or anything. This is strictly a volunteer job.

Just as Stiles opens his mouth to suggest that maybe they won’t come, the door handle turns and the front door to Stiles’s house swings open. Behind it is Jackson, and Scott has _never_ been happier to see him in his entire life. And that isn’t exaggeration. It’s hard facts.

Scott springs up from the couch and throws his arms around Jackson. “You’re here!” he says. “God bless you, Jackson Whittemore-Mahealani!”

Tentatively, Jackson hugs him back. “Never thought I’d hear you say _those_ words together,” he mutters.

They hug for about a second until from behind Jackson someone says, “Ew, who invited Jackson?”

“Malia! Jackson, move out of the way, Malia is here.”

Jackson is quickly shoved to the side in favor of Scott wrapping his arms around Malia. “Aw, Malia! I didn’t think you were gonna help,” he says warmly.

Instead of hugging him back, she just mutters, “I still might not.”

Too elated to even care, Scott turns back to Jackson. “Jackson, how do you feel about lifting heavy things?”

“Oh,” Jackson says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Actually, I pulled some muscles playing lacrosse a few weeks ago, and Danny and my doctor both—”

“Beg you not to be a wuss?” Scott asks, raising his eyebrows. “I agree. So go out there and get the equipment out of the truck.” He simply points to the door until Jackson sighs and relents, stalking to the door and muttering under his breath. As soon as the door closes behind him, Scott grins and reaches out to take Malia by the hand. “You’re here,” he says affectionately. He turns to Stiles and puts on his best, infamous puppy face. “Stiles,” he says, “would you make us some more pancakes?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but behind Scott Malia insists, “Yes, Stiles, I want pancakes.” So Stiles glares at them both before going to the kitchen. 

\--

“With current and projected deficits, we need to cut expenditures by thirty-two percent.”

Derek claps his hands together, causing Isaac to jump and Allison to look at him curiously. “Why not just make it an even forty?” he suggests happily.

Frowning at him, Isaac insists, “Oh, no, that’s not going to be necessary—”

He cuts in: “Slash it! Slash it! Slash it!” The looks his coworkers give him indicates that chanting is more than unnecessary.

As if it were some kind of dream, Derek was made part of a task force solely dedicated to cutting Pawnee’s already thin budget. It’s the best team he’s ever been a part of in his entire life; and that includes his woodworking club _and_ his hunting buddies.

He holds up his hands. “Right off the bat,” he says, “I think we should sell City Hall. Turn it into a gas station, or a T.J. Maxx, or a saloon.”

Unsurprisingly, Allison kneels on the floor to take his hands in hers and smile at him. “Derek,” she says, and she sounds _and_ looks like a patronizing kindergarten teacher, “that is a wonderfully creative idea. But we don't want to sell any of our major assets, because we don't want to lose out on any future revenue streams.”

Nodding solemnly, Derek says, “I hear that. Don’t worry, though.” He removes his hands and holds up a binder, and while doing so feels almost a little like Scott. “I have tons more ideas.”

She nods and pops back up, returning to Isaac and the slideshow. Isaac opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by the sound of a cocking and firing shotgun. “Sorry,” Derek mutters, digging into his pockets. “New ringtone.” He grins at Isaac and Allison. “Don’t cut anything without me,” he says, before going to the door and stepping outside. “Scott?” he asks.

Right off the bat, Scott begins assaulting him with a slew of words. He sounds half-preppy, half-annoyed. “Look,” he says, “I don’t care if you hate what we do. I love it enough for the both of us. We’re putting on this children’s concert. Today, five o’clock, on Lot forty-eight.”

Derek sighs. “Scott, you can’t do that.”

“Watch me!” Scott insists. “We’re doing this, Derek. With you, or without you.”

With that, the line goes dead, and Derek is left to worry about his favorite employee. But with a frown, he shakes it off and reopens the door. “Sorry,” he says to the room, “you may now continue with the slashing and murdering of our government’s budget.” Isaac rolls his eyes, but goes onto the next slide.

\--

Though Lydia isn’t always the warmest or most welcoming person in all of Pawnee, Scott knows she’s someone he can always count on. So he takes a deep breath and heads over to where she’s standing by the bouncy house and asks tentatively, “Can you go pick up Freddy Spaghetti in your Porsche?”

The five seconds in which she simply just glares at him, unimpressed, seem to stretch out into hours. But eventually, she just sighs and says, “Yeah, sure. But he better be showered. I just got the inside done, and Spaghetti is _notoriously_ funky.”

“Hey!” They both turn to see Boyd and Erica walking up, hand-in-hand. “Sorry we’re late. I had to wait for my boyfriend to finish eating breakfast.” Boyd smiles awkwardly and waves. “We had dinner last night, breakfast this morning. In between? Sex stuff.”

They all look at him. “You know her pretty well,” Boyd says eventually to Scott and Lydia. “So I don’t have to apologize for her behavior, right?”

“Right,” Scott assures with a nod and a smile. “Well, thanks for coming to help, regardless. We need all of it we can get.” Boyd grins, and he turns to see that Stiles, Malia, and Jackson have joined them. “Alright,” Scott says. “We’re gonna put on a show today. And it probably won’t be easy. And… it won’t fix all of Pawnee’s problems. At all. But it’ll make a lot of people happy.” He smiles encouragingly at them. “We ready?”

Together, they all cheer. “Okay! Back to work!” They all head off in different directions. Boyd and Erica are on their way to go check out the food stands when a roaring motorcycle catches their attention. “Hey, it’s Kira,” Erica says, pointing to the street. And sure enough, it is Kira, swiveling into a space on the street on her red crotch rocket. “Hey, man,” Erica says as she approaches. “Nice digs.”

The engine goes off and she removes her helmet. “Thanks!” Kira shouts. “The only thing about it is that it’s super loud, so I can’t really hear anything! Am I talking, like, really loudly right now?”

Erica and Boyd exchange a nervous glance. “Yes!” Erica shouts back. She chuckles and lowers her voice again. “Seriously, though, you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Kira says seriously. “It’s like driving half a car.” Over Erica’s shoulder, she sees long brown hair and torn up skinny jeans removing hay from the back of a truck. “Sorry, guys, gotta go—Malia!” Malia turns to her and rolls her eyes as Kira sprints towards her. “Hey! I called you, like, a million times. Why didn’t you call me back?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” is her sarcastic reply. “I was too busy not wanting to talk to you.”

Kira blinks unsurely. Just then, Jackson walks by, a stack of papers in hand, muttering about how he has to distribute the fliers around the neighborhood. Malia reaches out and takes them from him. “I’ll do that,” she says, stalking off. Jackson just raises his eyebrows, and Kira shrugs before taking off after her.

A few feet away, Stiles and Erica hang over the gate of the petting zoo. “So, I heard about you and Argent,” Erica says. “ _Nice._ ”

Sighing, Stiles shakes his head. “Not happening. I tend to make really bad decisions at the end of long relationships, and since Theo and I _just_ broke up, I’m going to try to avoid Allison. For now, at least.” He shrugs. “Just taking it cool for a while.”

Erica nods. “Sounds nice,” she says. “No need to jump into anything. A guy like you can have anyone they want.” Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs. “I’m serious!” she insists. “I joke around about wanting to lick your abs and stuff, but seriously, you’re a great guy, Stiles. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Stiles seems both flattered and taken aback. “Listen to you,” he says, knocking their shoulders together. “I like Erica with a boyfriend. She’s really nice.”

After a pause, Erica says, “How much do you like her? Because, I can definitely talk to Boyd, he might be down with a threesome…” Stiles rolls his eyes again and walks off. “I was only kidding!” she calls after him. But, no, she totally wasn’t.

\--

Shuffling through his files, Isaac says, “Okay, let’s talk about Parks and Rec.” He chuckles half-heartedly. “This one’s kind of tough.” He nods in Derek’s direction. “Thanks to Derek, the services budget has already been significantly cut, so… let’s talk about cutting personnel.”

Allison nods from where she’s looking at her own copy of the files. “The most logical option would be… Scott McCall.”

At that, Derek lets out a surprised chuckle. “Ho, no. You can’t fire Scott. You might as well just get rid of the whole department.”

Both the budget consultants glance at him. “It’s the best solution,” Isaac reasons. “His pay is second highest, under yours, and that will go a long way. I _know_ how valuable he is, believe me. We’ve just run out of options.”

Frowning, Derek tries again. “There are plenty of other options,” he insists. “For example…” He flips open his idea binder to a random page. “Sell the zoo animals.”

“What an interesting idea!” Allison says with a smile. “To whom?”

“Cosmetics labs,” Derek offers. “Weird restaurants. Shooting ranges. I don’t know.” He waves. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just telling you, it’s not an option.” He sighs and points to himself. “If anyone should be getting fired,” he says, “it’s me. I get paid the most, and I literally hate what I do.”

Allison avidly shakes her head. “That’s why we need you!” Derek raises his eyebrows quizzically.

“Your libertarian viewpoint saves the department a lot of money,” Isaac explains on a sigh. “We need you to keep up fiscal responsibility after we’re gone. Every department is losing a Scott McCall, Derek.”

But he won’t relent. He shakes his head. “No,” he insists. “ _No one_ is like Scott. There are a bunch of me out there. Well-payed government employees who hate what they do, love suffering. Tons of Lydia’s, who all don’t really care what they do as long as they get a spot where their well-payed Mercedes and a payoff for their vacation in the Caribbean. Erica’s, who are just trying to work their way to the top to get connections for their next big thing. Malia’s, who are just bored. Jackson’s, who… I’m not quite sure what he does, but everyone hates him. Kira’s, just trying to get by. Theo’s, quitting when things get tough. And you!”

He points angrily, and Isaac looks confused. “You, the boy trying to prove himself, and her, the goody two-shoes boss-slash-best friend. But _no one_ out there is like Scott McCall. Who is, by the way, at this very moment _singlehandedly_ putting on a concert for Pawnee’s kids.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “So take that and shove it up your ass.”

After one of, he would say, the top ten speeches he’s ever given, he expects groveling. Maybe a mumbled apology, at least. The look of fear in Isaac’s eyes, preferably. But Isaac just lifts an eyebrow. “He’s doing what now?” he asks, and Derek swallows. Oops.

\--

Her legs are tired from following Malia all over the place. “C’mon!” she says. “Won’t you just listen?”

Rolling her eyes and sidestepping Kira once again, Malia simply says: “No.”

Kira sighs and turns her back. “Fine,” she says. “I didn’t want to talk to you anyways.” She glances over her shoulder. “Reverse psychiatry,” she whispers, and Malia rolls her eyes again.

“Fine,” she snaps. “What is it?”

Grinning, Kira bounces on her toes and turns around. She takes a deep, calming breath, and says, “I like you.” Malia blinks. “In a romantical kind of way.” After a few seconds, when Malia is still just staring at her, she asks, gently, “Do you think that… maybe you like me too?” Eventually, Malia gives a small nod, and Kira grins. “Alright!” she cheers, and holds up her hand until Malia gives her a small smile and high-fives her. “Whoo! Okay, so, do you think that you would like to go out, maybe? Like tonight?”

Just like that, Malia’s smile quickly turns to a frown. “No,” she says softly, staring at the ground. “I don’t think we should see each other.”

All hope is once again lost. “What?” Kira asks. “Why not?! Is it because you’re twenty-one and I’m twenty-four?”

Malia glances up at her, frowning. “What? No. I don’t care about that. It’s only three years.” She sighs, tangles her hands behind her back. “It’s because whenever you… you see Stiles, or talk to Stiles, or talk _about_ Stiles, I get the feeling you’re still in love with him.”

_That’s_ what this is about? _Stiles_? She hasn’t liked Stiles in months. “I’m _not,_ ” she insists. “I _don’t_ love Stiles!”

“Yeah, well, to me it looks like you do,” Malia bites out, before turning and taking off in the opposite direction. Kira wants to follow, but she hears Derek yelling, and frowns. Derek’s here?

“They’re coming!” Stiles and Scott’s heads snap up from where they’re sitting on the truck to see Derek running towards them. “They’re coming, they’re—!” Just then, Derek falls on his face, and Stiles and Scott scramble to help him up.

As soon as he’s standing again, Stiles asks, “What? Who’s coming?”

“The Russians!” Kira guesses, walking up side-by-side with Jackson and Lydia. Erica and Boyd follow shortly behind.

Panting, Derek replies, “The state auditors!” Stiles blinks confusedly, and Scott groans. “I accidentally let slip what you were doing in an attempt to save some government jobs.” He glances at Scott. “Sorry, McCall,” he says sincerely. “It’s been a very strange day for me.”

Two more car doors slam, and Isaac and Allison approach, both in shades and suits. “Hey!” Allison says cheerfully, headed right for the stage. “Hey! Alright, everybody listen up!” She pauses and glances around, singling out Stiles and grinning at him. “Hey! Stiles Stilinski! Hi,” she says, and Stiles gives a small, awkward wave. “Everyone You are all super amazing. You are what makes Pawnee great, and I just want to tell you that I am totally supportive of your inspiring efforts here today!” Everyone claps at Allison’s support, and Stiles and Scott share a smile. “Yeah! Now, my partner Isaac wants to say something. Isaac?”

Everyone turns to the other auditor, who rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “we’re shutting this down.”

Collectively, the volunteers groan. “What?!” Stiles says. “You can’t do that!”

“Surely, there has to be a solution!” Allison says. “Isaac?”

He stares at her for a minute, before saying a final: “ _No._ ”

Allison snaps her fingers. “Damn,” she sighs. “Isaac says no, sorry everybody!” It makes Isaac recall a time back when they used to audit things separately. When Allison would go, nothing got done. Isaac, meanwhile, got death threats. They just work better as a team.

“The concert is canceled,” Isaac says finally, holding out his hands. “Everyone go home.”

Who steps forward next surprises no one. Scott McCall glares at him from the front of the circle, Stiles on one side and Derek on the other. “Here’s the thing, Jerksaac,” he says. “The concert isn’t canceled. Every single person here, from the vendors to the workers, are volunteers. No one here is being paid. This is a community-organized event. That being said, no one here besides you and Derek, who did not contribute any help whatsoever…” Derek waves cheerfully. “… works for the government. So, actually, no. The concert _isn’t_ canceled. And Freddy Spaghetti will sing!”

“Actually,” Lydia pipes up, wincing as she glances up from her phone, “Freddy Spaghetti isn’t coming.” Scott just blinks at her, so she continues. “When we canceled, he took a higher paying job in Eagleton. In a library.”

“That’s the worst place I can think of,” Erica yells, and they all nod their agreement. A library? In their rival town? Who would ever want to go there?

Scott sighs, and says, “Okay, so Freddy Spaghetti might not sing. But something much cooler is going to happen.” He looks nervously from Isaac, to Stiles, to Derek. “I hope.”

“He can’t be the only musician in town,” Boyd says.

At that, Scott gets a glint in his eye. “Boyd, you’re my new favorite. After Stiles. Erica, good work.” Erica gives him a thumbs up and Boyd grins. “Kira! You play for the kids!”

Widening her eyes, Kira begins avidly shaking her head. “Scott, I can’t,” she insists. “I don’t really even feel like playing right now… Besides, what do you want me to sing? _Sex Hair_? _Raunchy Office_? _Mandolin_?” She doesn’t mention that last song was the song she wrote for Malia, but it seems irrelevant. “I don’t have any songs for kids!”

He waves her off. “Change the word _sex_ in _Sex Hair._ ” She raises an eyebrow. “Uh, I don’t know… pickle, or something.”

She rolls her eyes and sings, “ _Pickle hair / You got it from me / Yeah you got pickle hair._ ” She pauses, and nods. “Yeah! Okay, alright. I just need to get my guitar.” She dashes over to her motorcycle, puts it into a drive and goes into the street, when out comes a car and she flips over it. Everyone gasps and takes off in a run, and Stiles can’t help but think that when he thought that Kira would cause an accident, he didn’t mean it so literally.

\--

Flipping through the chart, Stiles announces, “You have two broken bones in your right arm, and four in your hand.” He sighs and lets the chart fall to his side. “They’ll set the fractures, but the doctor would like to keep you overnight for observation.”

Kira blinks, looks from Stiles to Scott to Derek. “There’s no chance they could fix me in, like, ten minutes?” she asks hopefully, and Stiles shakes his head sadly.

“Not unless they advance medicine ten years,” he says, and Kira’s eyes light up. He clarifies quickly: “Which they can’t do.”

Scott sighs. “Is there anyway _Foxy and the Moxies_ could play without you?” he asks.

Rolling her eyes, Kira snorts and replies, “They _tried._ They’re called _Moxies,_ and they are awful.” Stiles nods in agreement. “But you’ve gotta find _someone._ There’s a saying in show business: The show must go wrong.” Scott frowns and opens his mouth to correct her, but she keeps going. “Everything that can go wrong will. You just have to deal with it.”

He sighs and nods, leaving with Derek right behind him. Meanwhile, Stiles pulls up the food trey. “I got you your favorite,” he says. “Every flavor of Jello.”

“Aw, the Jello rainbow!” Kira says, smiling at him. “Thanks, Stiles. You’re the best.”

He grins back, and she works at opening an orange Jello. “Ah, injured Kira,” Stiles sighs. “Just like old times, huh?” She nods, distracted. “I almost expect you to call me S-Cakes.”

She huffs a laugh and gives up, putting the Jello back on the table. “S-Cakes,” she says, glancing up at him. “That was a terrible nickname.”

He nods and sighs. After a few seconds, when they’re still staring at each other and Kira opens her mouth to tell him that he can leave, it’s okay, Stiles leans all the way down and slots their mouths together.

It’s then that she realizes that she was right, earlier, talking to Malia. She feels absolutely nothing with her mouth pressed to Stiles’s. Eventually, he pulls back. “Oh my God,” he says, bringing his hand to my mouth. Kira just stares at him, slack-jawed. “Oh, oh my God, Kira. I am… just so, so sorry. That was a terrible mistake. Um.” He shakes himself and speeds to the door, almost knocking over Malia on the way out.

“Oh my God,” she says, ignoring Stiles’s presence entirely. “I just heard. Are you okay?”

Raising her eyebrows, Kira manages a half a nod. “Malia, yeah, I’m… I’m great. What are you doing here?”

She sighs and crosses her arms. “Look,” she says, “what I said this afternoon was totally stupid. I really like you, a lot. And, if you say you don’t have feelings for Stiles, then…” She smiles warmly. “I believe you.”

Kira opens her mouth to reply when suddenly another person is, again, leaning down and kissing her for the second time in, like, five minutes. This kiss, though, is amazing. Malia tastes like sugar. Or maybe that’s just the gelatin. Either way, it’s _amazing_.

As soon as they pull apart, Kira murmurs, “Wow.” Malia smiles again. “Uh, okay. This is… kind of bad. I just want to be, like, totally honest with you right now with you. Because I like you. A lot.” She swallows. “Like, five minutes ago, Stiles was in here, and he was feeling kind of down, I guess? And he kissed me.”

Malia just blinks at her before snapping all the way back into standing position. “But I didn’t kiss him!” Kira hurries to tack on. “He kissed me! It was totally not because I wanted to!”

“Bye,” Malia says, turning on her heel and exiting.

“Wait, no! Malia! _Malia!_ ”

\--

Although he’s done a lot of presentations in his life, standing up here in front of these children is the most terrifying. “Uh,” Scott says nervously, grabbing the microphone, “hi, kids. I’m… Benny Penne. Um, I’m very sad to say that Freddy Spaghetti won’t be attending tonight.” The children all groan, and some of the parents do too. “Unfortunately, he bumped his noodle.” The kids all give half-hearted laughs, and Scott beams. “Yeah, there was sauce everywhere. Uh… well, I guess…”

He clears his throat and begins. “ _If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands._ ” One very enthusiastic _clap-clap_ sounds out, and he looks over to see Allison beaming at him. He sighs, but keeps going. These kids were promised a concert, and they will get one. “ _If you’re happy and you…_ ”

“Hi kids!”

All the kids begin clapping, because there’s Freddy Spaghetti. He made it. “Hey,” Scott says, “I thought you were busy in Eagleton.”

Freddy Spaghetti moves the microphone away from his mouth. “Yeah, well that guy down there offered me a much better deal.” She follows his line of sight to a shyly smiling Isaac. “I’m all about the money, honey.” He claps and starts strumming his ukulele. “Alright, kids, sing along! _She cooked an itsy bitsy, teeny weenie, yellow polka-dot linguini!_ ”

Grinning, Scott bounds down the steps and over to Isaac. They watch Freddy Spaghetti perform for a moment longer before Scott turns to Isaac. “Why did you do this?” he asks.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I’m not a _monster,_ ” he says. He gestures out to the crowd of happily singing Pawnee children. “I wanted the kids to have their concert.”

Laughing, Scott nods. “Ah, so Mean Isaac has a soft spot.”

Raising his eyebrows, Isaac asks, “Is that what you call me? ‘Mean Isaac?’ I thought it was—so clever, by the way— _Jerksaac._ ”

He doesn’t miss the way Scott blushes. “Yeah,” he admits. “Not my best work.”

They watch Freddy Spaghetti shoot someone with water, his ukulele set on full blast. “Look,” Isaac says. “This is… really great. For today. But there’s a lot of hardship ahead. Government budgets getting cut and—”

“Can you just… stop?” Scott cuts in, squinting up at Isaac in the sun. “Can you just, like, take a minute and relish in the fact that you provided a service for people? Okay? And not a cut.” He sighs and looks out over the crowd of smiling people of all ages. “And they love it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isaac smirk. “The biggest service was getting you to stop singing.”

Scott laughs again and begins to walk away, backwards. “We were having a moment, Jerksaac,” he teases. He walks off towards where he can see Derek and Lydia in the distance, and Isaac smiles to himself.

When he’s made his way over, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson are there too, standing with Lydia and Derek. “Well, guys,” he sighs. “We did it.” He reaches up and puts one hand on Derek’s shoulder, the other on Erica’s. “You guys are the best people working in the best government in the best city in the world.”

“Suck it, Paris, France,” Erica says triumphantly.

They all chuckle, and Scott smiles. “Well. I’d say see you tomorrow, but…” Nodding, they all say goodbye before heading to their cars in the parking lot. Scott is left alone, and he can’t help but feel like something really important just ended, and he didn’t even have the chance to enjoy it while it lasted.

\--

When he looks up from his paperwork, Isaac is almost surprised to see Scott burst through his door the next morning. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t be. It is Scott McCall, after all. “What are you doing here?” he asks, and Scott grins.

“Derek made me the official representative of Parks and Recreation for the budget committee,” he announces, and holds up a binder. “Don’t worry, I have lots of ideas.”

Isaac huffs. “That’s only supposed to be…”

“Essential personnel?” Scott holds up his I.D., which has a brand new picture and the words SCOTT MCCALL, PARKS AND RECREATION, ESSENTIAL printed across it, and despite himself, Isaac grins.


	3. Go Big, Or Go Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a summer without each other, the Parks gang is back together. Scott tries to convince Allison and Isaac to give more money to the Parks and Rec department, and when he fails to persuade them, Stiles offers to help. Malia takes out her frustrations about Kira on someone else. Derek tries very hard to pretend he's not there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments! you guys are the best. ♥

Three months. That’s how long the Parks and Recreation department has gone without seeing each other, and the bankrupt government of Pawnee, Indiana has been shut down. Three _months_. Scott can say, without a doubt, that it has been the worst summer of his entire life. And he had lice in the fourth grade. And fifth. It was a couple of bad summers in a row.

It’s been three months of no work, no memos, no meetings, no late nights. Nothing. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

Which is why he’s so excited when he pulls up to the log cabin. In front stands a burly woodsman, with a week’s worth of scruff, an axe in hand, and a log in front of him. He’s mid-swing when Scott opens the door and pops his head out, beaming. “Derek,” he announces. “We’re back.”

His boss rolls his eyes and sighs. “Bully.”

\--

Working in the makeup department of a convenience store in the middle of the mall wasn’t exactly her dream job, but at the moment, she was taking what she could get. “There,” she said with a smile, turning the mirror on her customer. “You look just like Cinderella.”

The lady glares at her and points to her cheekbones. “This makeup is way too dark,” she says.

Erica purses her lips, slams the brush down, and says, “Yeah, well, the real Cinderella wasn’t so God damn pale.”

“Erica!” She snaps her head around to see Scott and Derek standing in the front of the department store. “We’re back!”

She grins and claps her hands together, throwing her custom store apron on the ground. “Jeremy!” she yells to her manager, “Suck it!” She turns to run towards her friends when she thinks better of it and adds, “By the way, I’ve been giving away free lipstick to the girls at Hot Dog on a Stick!” before dashing out the door.

\--

This cubicle feels too damn tight, and it’s too damn hot in here. What was she thinking when she took this temp job? Probably that she was a fast talker and could swindle anything out of anyone, but regardless, it was a mistake. “Look,” she sighs into her headset. “We can dance around this all day. But let’s just cut to the chase. Are you going to buy four thousand rubber nipples from me today, or not?”

“Lyds, you have a visitor.”

Squinting curiously, Lydia turns in her swivel chair to see Scott grinning as he approaches. “Are we back?” she asks, and Scott nods. “Alright!” She gets up, daintily brushes off her skirt, and follows him back out the door.

\--

Since his stress levels were way too high, Danny suggested he start taking up painting. Which is stupid. He hates painting. But he loves Danny, and hey, he’s actually pretty good at it, so he does it anyway. He’s finishing up his painting of the lake he’s going to give Danny for their anniversary when he hears, “Jackson!”

He turns to see none other than Scott with a bright grin and wide eyes, Erica trailing behind him. “Jesus, McCall, you scared me,” he huffs.

“The nightmare’s over, Jackson,” Scott announces. “We’re going back to work.”

Nodding in agreement, Erica shouts, “You’re not gonna need this anymore!” before promptly picking up his painting and throwing it into the lake. 

He gapes at the lake until Scott says, “Come on!” cheerfully, and he follows them both back to the car.

\--

“Well,” Derek sighs, clapping his hands together, “I am usually not one for speeches. So goodbye.”

With that, he turns and goes back to his office, but as soon as he’s gone, Scott bustles in. “Okay, break time is over!” he says. “The parks budget has been slashed, but we are all still here.” He smiles brightly at them. “And we have a job to do.”

From off to his side, Erica claps her hands together. “That’s right! Make the world’s _biggest_ pizza!”

Scott rolls his eyes. “No. Make this town fun for the people who live here.”

She nods solemnly. “Right,” she agrees, “but after that, the pizza is our number one priority.”

“No it’s not.”

Derek’s head pops out from his office. “We’re getting pizza?”

“Hello, hello!” Allison says excitedly, bustling in with Isaac in step behind her. “It is _truly_ great to see all of you! It’s great news that you’ve all made it back to your jobs, huh?” She beams and turns to her counterpart. “Isaac?” she asks, before walking right back out of the room.

They all look after her, and Isaac rolls his eyes. “There’s also bad news,” he says. “Which, clearly I get to deliver.” He puts files, enough for each of them to have one, on the table. “Your only work, at the moment, is existing park maintenance.” Scott frowns, reaching down to pick one up. “So that just means that we’re in maintenance mode.”

Unsurprisingly, Scott pipes up. “Okay,” he says, “but, see, I’ve spent the last few months brainstorming, right? And I have some really great ideas, they’re all in my idea binders.” He gestures behind him, where, according to the numbers printed on the side, forty-eight multicolored binders sit on top of one another. “I mean, they’re color-coded, for God’s sake.”

Squinting, Isaac stammers, “I don’t know what—here is—the thing about this is.” He clears his throat, and follows Allison’s suit by turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Down the hall, Kira is shining Harris’s shoes, holding her phone between her shoulder and her ear. “Malia, hey, it’s me!” she says. “Kira. Yukimura.”

Above her, Harris asks, “Maybe you shouldn’t be on the phone while on the job?”

Glaring up at him sharply, she says, “Shut up, Harris.” He does, quickly. “Uh, anyway,” she continues, “this is the millionth message I’ve left you without a response, so. If you’re trying to tell me something, I don’t know what it is because you won’t call me back.”

She sighs and puts her cellphone back in her pocket. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Harris suggests.

Kira glares at him again. “Maybe I could never shine your shoes again, Harris,” she spits. He shuts up again.

\--

Around lunch, Stiles wanders into City Hall with three coffees in hand. He’s happy to not see Kira; the sign on her shoeshine stand says “Out For Lunch,” so he hopes maybe she won’t be around while he’s here. He walks into the Parks and Rec office to find the only other person he wanted to avoid: Malia. She’s sitting at her desk, filing her nails, and glares when he comes in. He figured this might happen. (Thus the third coffee.) He swallows. “Uh, hi,” he says nervously. He gestures to the trey in his hands with a tip of his head. “I get the sense that maybe you’re mad at me for kissing Kira—”

Immediately, she jumps in. “What? No I’m not, what are you talking about, that’s crazy.”

The best option is probably to ignore her, so he keeps going. “Anyway, I bought you a coffee.”

She squints at him. “Are you trying to poison me?” she asks, and he rolls his eyes. From her lunch, she picks up a knife. “Help!” she yells in the direction of Scott’s office. “This slutty nurse is trying to poison me!”

He sighs. “Okay,” he says. “That’s fair. Listen, Malia, you can taunt me as much as you want, but I won’t break.”

“Stay back, slut!” she says, waving the knife.

At the same time, Derek pokes his head out of his office and Scott walks out of his. “Malia,” Derek warns, “down, girl.” Still glaring, she slowly lowers the knife and bares her teeth like a wolf. 

Scott, thankfully, saunters up and saves him from pissing his pants. “Aw, is this for me?” he asks sweetly, taking one of the coffees. “You’re the best best friend ever! Thanks!” Stiles nods, grinning, then slowly puts one of the other two coffees down on Malia’s desk. 

“Ready for lunch?” he asks. Scott nods, and together they head out the door. “So, happy to be back at work?” he asks.

Scott sighs. “I guess,” he says. “Our budget’s down to literally zero, though. I tried to buy fertilizer the other day for the soccer field? Request denied.” 

“Sorry, dude,” Stiles says, taking a sip of his coffee. “That sucks.”

Nodding, Scott says, “Yeah, I mean, back in the good old days of government, they used to do the best, biggest projects.” He pulls Stiles over to some pictures by the wall, and points at each of them in turn. “The Winter Jamboree. The Spring Fling.” He sighs wistfully as he points to the best of them all. “The _Harvest Festival._ We used to have it all. And now…” He rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Now we literally can’t buy shit.”

He frowns and says, “They don’t trust us anymore. I’m not a paper pusher, Stiles. I need to be out there planting trees and cracking skulls.”

Off to their side, they hear, “Scott McCall!” They both turn their heads to see Allison and Isaac. Allison beams at them both. “And Stiles Stilinski! How are my two favorite people in this entire town?”

“Not good, Allison,” Scott says plainly. Stiles nods in support. “There’s a whole line of people in my office complaining that all their programs have been slashed.”

Allison sighs, puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, that’s terrible,” she murmurs. She turns her head to Isaac and asks, “Is there anything we can do about that?”

Isaac stares at her incredulously before saying, “No.”

“Damn,” she sighs. “Sorry, Scott. Stiles, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Stiles takes a deep breath, but shrugs, and follows Allison off to the side. It leaves just Scott and Isaac to avoid making eye contact. “So,” Isaac says awkwardly, “how’s it going?”

Rolling his eyes, Scott just replies, “Save it, okay? I know you don’t have faith in me, or my department. And that’s fine, whatever. But don’t expect me to sit here and chit-chat with you.”

He turns to dramatically walk off when Isaac falls in step beside him. “Alright,” he says, “fair enough.”

Scott squints at him. “Go the other way!” he insists. “This is just more awkward.”

“Alright, but I was just—” Scott doesn’t give him the time to answer before he’s walked away. Isaac sighs. “Fine, I guess I’ll just…” He turns around and heads the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Allison and Stiles stand in the small outside area in the middle of the building. “Again,” Stiles is saying, “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think you and I should date.”

It’s really odd that her smile never wavers. “Can I ask why not?” she asks respectfully. “Because I thought we had a great time the night that you got drunk and kissed me.” She holds up a hand. “Also,” she says, “you did use your tongue.”

Frowning awkwardly, Stiles says, “I just don’t think I’m really in a position to date anyone right now. It’s not you at all.”

She shrugs. “Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” she says cheerfully, poking him in the jest. “Stiles Stilinski.” Over his shoulder, she directs, “Scott McCall!” Scott smiles and nods politely before she makes her way back inside.

Once the door clicks behind her, Scott raises his eyebrows. “Did she ask you out again?” he asks.

Nodding, Stiles motions to a table, where they sit to have lunch and drink their coffee. “She did, she did,” Stiles says. “She’s nothing if not persistent.” He pauses and squints at his coffee cup. “And hot, yeah, she’s really hot. But intense. But she’s really, really hot. But she’s your boss, so. But God, she’s so hot.”

Laughing, Scott says, “Dude, if you want to go out with her, just do it. Don’t hold out because you think you owe me or Theo anything.” He takes a sip of his coffee and adds, “Especially Theo. Allison’s a nice girl who just also happens to be my boss.”

Stiles nods and says, “I think I just thought of a way to save the Parks department.” Scott grins.

\--

On her fifth shoeshine of the day, Kira glances up to see Malia through the window, and grins. “Sorry,” she says politely to her customer, before shooting up off the floor and crossing the yard. “Hey, Malia! Malia!” She bursts through the door, and Malia glances up at her and smiles, albeit falsely. “Hey, Malia, where’ve you been? I called you, like, a thousand times.”

“Oh, sorry, I was in Indianapolis all summer,” she says, putting her bag on her shoulder. “I was working as Allison’s assistant and it was pretty busy.”

Kira nods. That makes sense. “Well, do you think that maybe we could hang out sometime?” she asks.

With that, Malia’s façade breaks and she glares. “You just don’t get it, do you?” she asks. “I don’t _want_ to hang out with you. Or talk to you, or look at your stupid face. Ever.”

She turns and leaves, and Kira is left with the feeling that that was distinctly not right. Just then, Derek walks out of his office. “Derek,” she sighs, “what do you do if a girl just—”

But he holds up a hand to stop her, not looking up from where he’s making his coffee. “I don’t want to know,” he says. “The less I know about other people’s affairs, the happier I am.” He looks up to squint at her. “I once worked with a guy for three years. Never knew his name. Best friend I ever had.” He smiles wistfully, picking up his coffee. “We still don’t talk sometimes.” Then he walks back into his office, leaving Kira even more confused.

\--

“I am so excited that you finally agreed to go out with me!” Allison says cheerfully, pouring some more wine into Stiles’s glass. “What a magnificent flip-flop!”

Stiles smiles. “Well, you’re just a magnificent asker-outer, I guess,” he says lamely.

Allison smiles and leans forward on her hand. “I love dates,” she says happily. “I love connecting with someone, I love engaging them I love being surprised by them.” She sighs contently. “I have never had a bad date in my entire life. They’ve all been either great or _phenomenally_ great.”

Not knowing what to say to that, really, Stiles smiles and nods awkwardly. Allison beams and continues. “Nurses are _the_ best and most undervalued members of society,” she says. “By far. I think all of you should make as much money as the CEO of Google.”

He tilts his head and smiles, softly. “Wow, thanks,” he says. “I agree.” He pauses for a second, squints at her, and asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

Her smile softens. “Why am I so upbeat and happy?” she guesses. Stiles gives a slight nod. She shrugs and says, “I was born with a blood disorder. My parents were told that I only had three weeks to live. And here I still am.” She smiles again, still soft, and Stiles thinks privately that he prefers that to her constant overly happy beaming. “Some… a thousand, three hundred odd weeks later. And I have lived every single one of them to the fullest.”

He smiles back at her, and can’t help but think that she’s actually a really nice girl.

\--

The phone rings and Scott squints at the caller I.D. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Scotty, I can’t do it. It’s going really well, and she’s just a really, really nice, beautiful, smoking hot girl.”

There was a chance this would happen. Scott sighs. “It’s fine, Stiles. Just enjoy yourself,” he says sincerely.

“No, Scott. I want to do this for you. Maybe you could come down and offer some backup? I need help here.”

Reaching over blindly to grab his car keys, Scott sighs and agrees. “I’m on my way.”

\--

Putting on his best surprised face, he strolls into the restaurant. “Stiles?” he says, a little unconvincingly. “Allison? What are you guys doing here?!”

Beaming, Allison replies, “Oh, Scott McCall! We were just on a date! And it is going _phenomenally_!”

“Yes, Scott, would you care to join us?” Stiles asks, gesturing to the seat across from him.

Scott shrugs and sits. “This is great, actually,” he says to Allison, “because I really wanted to talk to you…”

“Well, well, well.”

They all look up simultaneously to see Isaac, smirking at Scott with his hands in his pockets. “Isaac!” Allison says brightly. “What a nice surprise!”

“Oh!” Isaac brings his hand up to his face, feigning forgetfulness. “That’s right, you were coming here on a date! And hey, Scott is joining you on this wonderfully romantic occasion.” Scott narrows his eyes, and Isaac smirks again. _Smarmy bastard._ “How about that?”

“Fantastic!” Allison cheers.

“It is,” Scott grits out. “Isaac, a word.” He doesn’t wait for Isaac to reply before dragging him away.

Once they’re sufficiently far enough that he’s sure Allison and Stiles won’t hear them, he turns to face Isaac and raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” he hisses.

Isaac tilts his head. “Just having dinner,” he says innocently. “And confirming a suspicion.”

Rolling his eyes, Scott says, “I literally have nothing to do with this date. They’re both so beautiful, they probably just want to see each other naked. Also, if it were an evil plan, it would have been exclusively Stiles’s idea. My participation would have, hypothetically, been merely encouragement.”

Isaac huffs. “Yeah,” he says, “okay, well, I know what you two are trying to do. And neither of you are that good at being sneaky.”

“Yes we are,” Scott retorts, narrowing his eyes.

But Isaac firmly insists, “No, you’re _not._ I caught on the minute Stiles came into our office, he’s the worst liar in the world. Actually, no. _You’re_ the worst liar in the world.”

“No I’m not!”

“Uh, yes, you are.”

“No, I’m—”

“Hey!” They both turn to see Allison holding out a hand. “You guys, let’s just all have dinner together. It’ll be fun!”

They glance back to each other, and Isaac smiles maliciously. “Great,” he says.

Scott purses his lips and glares. “Great.”

\--

Eventually, Isaac gets tired of the song and dance. “Well,” he sighs, “you two are on a date, so Scott and I should probably get going.”

But Allison waves him off, even though he’s trying to be a good friend here and help her out. “Nonsense,” she insists. “The more the merrier! I’m having a fantastic time. What do you say we take this date-plus-two-other-people-thing up into the stratosphere?”

Then, ten minutes later, they’re in _The Envelope,_ a well-known Pawnee lesbian club. Scott dances as a third-wheel with Stiles and Allison. “This place is outstanding!” she cheers, over the music. “Great call, Scott!” Scott smiles. “Look, even Isaac is dancing!”

And sure enough, Isaac is awkwardly moving side to side in a corner on his own. Scott smiles, despite himself, and says, “I’m gonna go save him.” Stiles and Allison nod before Scott wanders over to Isaac. “Hey,” he says, “you look like you could use a beer.” Isaac smiles down at him and allows himself to be led over to the bar.

Meanwhile, Allison and Stiles make conversation. “I am literally having the time of my life here, with you, Stiles Stilinski,” she says with a grin. He smiles back, but seems distracted by something over her shoulder. She turns and looks to see a group of women all staring at her, and she waves. “Wow, the people in this club are so friendly,” she whispers, turning back to Stiles.

Just then, one of them walks over. “Hey there,” she says with a smile, and Allison nods. “Do you think I could buy you a drink?”

Allison brings her hand to her chest and smiles. “That is very kind of you, and I am very flattered.” She points to Stiles beside her. “But this is my stunningly gorgeous date, Stiles Stilinski!” 

Stiles waves a little, feeling as awkward and out of place as high school. “Oh,” the girl says, blinking dumbly. “Hi. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no problem!” Allison insists. “In fact, let me buy you and all of your friends over there a round of drinks for being so very welcoming today.”

As she walks away followed by a hoard of lesbians, Stiles smiles after her. It’s kind of weird and a little scary, but he’s starting to get this feeling he might actually _like_ Allison. Which was so not the point of this date.

A few barstools down from where Allison is buying drinks for her new friends, Scott and Isaac watch a waitress put two pink, swirly drinks down in front of them. “On the house, Scott,” she says with a smile before turning back to another patron.

“Aw, thanks,” he murmurs. Isaac raises an eyebrow questionably. “I’m sort of an accidental LGBT hero,” he explains sheepishly, gesturing to a poster on the wall of his face. “Mostly because I’m an LGBT member of government, but also because I married two penguins at the zoo last year that turned out to be two lesbian females.”

Isaac chuckles as he swirls around his straw in his drink. “Penguin wedding,” he says. “That’s cute.”

“It was so cute!” Scott agrees with a grin. He pauses for a moment, then says, “Why don’t you want me to have the money?”

In return, Isaac rolls his eyes. “Good Lord, really? We were having a moment.” But Scott just stares at him, so he sighs. “When I was eighteen, and I became mayor of my hometown, I used every drop of the town’s money to open a giant winter sports complex. I called it Ice Town.”

“And it turned out great and everyone loved it?” Scott guesses.

Pursing his lips, Isaac says, “Uh, yeah, kinda. It was never completed and I got impeached.” Scott’s eyes widen. “Yeah. The newspaper headline was: ‘Ice Town Costs Ice Clown His Ice Crown.’” Scott frowns, and Isaac nods. “They were big into rhymes,” he says, as way of explanation.

They sit in silence for a second as Scott mulls that over. “Well, I don’t know,” he says eventually. “I think Ice Town sounds great. And who cares if it flopped? At least you tried something.” From that, he gets a rare, surprised, and genuine smile from Isaac.

\--

“Look,” Scott sighs, “we could really use that money.” Allison nods to indicate she’s listening. “We’re barely able to function right now.”

She gives a happy sigh. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m in such a fantastic club right now,” she says before glancing over at Stiles, “or because I’m with the very lovely Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles smiles softly, and uh-oh. Scott knows that look. That’s the _I-like-you-a-lot-and-we’re-probably-having-sex-later_ look. Allison smiles back before looking back to Scott. “But I will take that into very serious consideration.”

Stiles beams at Scott, and Scott right back. “Great!” Scott says. “Thanks! Mission accomplished.”

But then, Allison’s eyes darken, and for the first time since any of them have ever known her, she frowns. “Mission accomplished?” she asks gently, looking from Scott to Stiles. “Your… you had a mission?” Stiles opens his mouth like a fish, but no words come out. Allison smiles sadly. “I think I’ve just had my first bad date. Stiles Stilinski,” she sighs, before hopping off her seat and heading for the door.

They all watch her go. “Not so sneaky,” Isaac says to Scott with his own frown, before going after his friend.

\--

“Scott,” Stiles says as they get to the door of the Parks office. “That sucked so much.”

Scott nods empathetically. “I know,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry Stiles. It kind of slipped out.” He reaches down and opens the door, walking inside with Stiles behind. “If you want, I could apologize. Tell her it was my idea—”

“But it was _my_ idea,” Stiles interjects, “and that’s the worst part.”

“Wow, you had an idea? Don’t strain yourself.”

They both jump at the sound of a third voice, and turn to see Malia glowering at them from her desk. “Malia, Stiles just had a bad night. If you could lay off?” Scott asks politely.

But Stiles licks his lips, and puts his hand out to touch Scott on the shoulder. “No. It’s okay, Scott. Go into your office now.”

He frowns. “Stiles—”

“ _Go._ ”

With a suspicious look, Scott turns and heads toward his office. When the door clicks behind him, Stiles walks over and locks the door with a click. Scott jumps up from his chair and pulls at the knob, but it won’t budge. Stiles turns back to Malia. “What the _fuck_ is your problem?!” he yells.

Her eyes widen. “Whoa,” she says. “I thought you weren’t gonna lose it.”

“Yeah, well, that was sane Stiles! This is Stiles who just had a really bad night!” He sighs and covers his hands with his eyes, Scott still banging on the door behind him. “Look,” he says, a little calmer now. “I get that you’re mad that I kissed Kira. Okay? I get it. But I’m very sorry, it was a moment of confusion, and I was very upset at the time.” He throws his arms up. “You want to hate me forever for a mistake?”

It’s quiet for a moment, before she nods. “Yes,” she agrees.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine!” he says. “But you shouldn’t take it out on Kira, because she’s a good person and she really, really likes you a lot, and she did nothing wrong! And just for the record, I’m beginning to hate you too!” At that, he reaches over and unlocks the door, then stomps from the office.

Scott stumbles out and they both look after him, dumbfounded. Eventually, Malia says, “That’s the most I’ve ever liked Stiles,” before going back to her paperwork. 

\--

It takes all the bravado Stiles has to knock on Allison’s office door the next day, and just a little extra to open it and barge in. Luckily, Allison’s just sitting at her desk. She stands as Stiles enters, and he smiles softly and hopefully. “Look,” he says, “Scott is my best friend. He needed some help, so I did him a favor. I’m sorry, and I’m here to eat crow.” Allison’s eyes widen, but he continues. “I like you. A lot. More than I really ever thought I would have. Let’s go out again?”

After a few seconds, Allison’s bright smile returns. “Stiles Stilinski,” she says happily. Stiles just grins back.

\--

“Well,” Kira says sadly, plopping down in the chair across from Scott, “I got my answer. Malia hates me. And unless I can magically un-kiss Stiles, she’ll hate me forever.” She sighs and puts her head down in her hands. “What do I do, Scott?”

Gently, he reaches over and tilts her head until she’s looking up at him. “Hey,” he says. “When your back’s against the wall, and the odds are stacked against you, you do what you have to do, and you swing the hardest, damn it. You either go big, or go home.” He smiles gently. “You, Kira, are not the type of girl to go home.”

She nods. “I’m not,” she agrees. “I don’t even really have a home.”

Unsure what to say to that, Scott just shakes his head. “Great!” he says. “Even better. Go get her, Kira!”

“Okay,” she agrees, shooting up from her seat. “Okay, thanks, Scott!” With that, she dashes out the door, not running into the wall only by a small fraction.

\--

The members of the Parks and Recreation department, who had not seen each other in three months up until yesterday, all walk down the corridor of the main building. “Okay,” Scott says, turning to face his friends. “Listen up. We all know the people who run this government have no faith in us.” One by one, they all nod. “My plan is going to change that _and_ bring the budget back.” He gestures up to the wall. “The answer’s been right here the whole time.”

They all glance up at the wall. “Check your testicles?” Malia asks unsurely, raising her eyebrows.

Scott rolls his eyes. “No. Though it’s good advice. Looking at you, Jackson.” Jackson frowns, but Scott steamrolls over it. “Above that.”

Again, they glance up at the wall, and Derek slowly but surely grins. “That’s a fine plan, McCall,” he says proudly. “A very fine plan indeed.”

\--

When Malia enters to prepare for the presentation, she finds her desk covered with roses. She frowns down at them, picks one up and moves it around. “Malia Tate!” says a voice behind her, and Kira grins at her. There’s a rose woven through her braided hair. “Do you like the flowers?”

“What are you doing?” Malia asks, rolling her eyes.

“Asking you out,” is her immediate reply. “On a date. Again. And I’m coming at you with everything I got. So, do you want to go out with me?”

“No.”

Kira blinks. “Oh,” she says awkwardly. “Really thought you would say yes to that.” She shakes herself and puts up her hands. “No big deal, though. Because I’m coming back tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. And the—okay, no, you get the picture.” She smiles broadly. “I’m going to win you back. I promise.” With that, she walks backwards out of the room, only _just_ managing not to trip on her way out. And although she doesn’t see it, Malia smiles a little to herself.

\--

At first glance—and hell, Isaac thinks, at _second_ glance and every glance after—they look like a very odd lineup. Lydia holds a rolled up poster, Erica a pumpkin, Malia a cornucopia. Derek and Jackson just stand with their hands in their pockets, and their noble leader makes the speech. “I realize that times are tough,” Scott says, “and the budget is tight.” Isaac rolls his eyes, but holds his tongue. “But if the people of this town have nothing else to do but sit in their houses and play video games, then Pawnee will die. And we refuse to let that happen.” He pauses for a moment, before whispering, “Now.” And things go into motion.

Erica walks forward and places the pumpkin roughly in Isaac’s lap, as Malia hands Allison the cornucopia. Together, Lydia and Derek unwind the poster, and Jackson clicks on the music. “Pawnee is historically known for two things,” Scott says. “Widespread obesity, and the annual Pawnee Harvest Festival.” He takes a step back to point at the banner, _PAWNEE HARVEST FESTIVAL 1983._ “People from all over Indiana would come,” Scott continues, “and marvel at how fat our citizens were, and while they were here would also attend the festival.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Isaac sees Allison nod softly. “A full week of corn mazes, hayrides, Ferris wheels, pumpkins the size of Jeeps,” Scott smiles wistfully. “We lost that, a few years ago, due to another round of budget cuts. But I propose we bring it back. With ticket sales and corporate sponsorship, the money will come right back to us. And I _promise_ that people will come. And, if not, well…” He sighs and glances back at Derek, who gives a slight nod. “You can eliminate Parks and Rec. With no qualms from me.”

Isaac frowns at everyone. “And you’re all on board with this?” he asks.

They all nod and murmur their agreement. “Look, we’re not just pencil-pushers,” Scott says. He gestures to the people behind him. “We are a reflection of the community. And we think we can improve that community if you’d just let us. Because in the end? The reason why _all of us_ are here, is to bring people together.”

After Scott’s speech, silence falls. Until a gentle sniffle, and they turn to see Allison with tear tracks and a red nose. “That…” she said, “… _literally…_ was the most moving thing I’ve ever heard.” She turns to Isaac and sniffs again. “And a good idea.”

Turning to Isaac now, they await his approval or disapproval. Eventually, he shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “Alright.”

Cheering erupts. Derek sweeps Erica into a lift hug, Lydia throws her arms around Jackson, and even Malia smiles. “You did good,” Allison whispers, knocking his shoulder with hers. He smiles. He provided something for people. Not a cut. He glances at Scott, who grins at him from where he’s talking to Derek. And they love it.

\--

As Allison and Isaac exit City Hall (after Scott’s finally given them the official go-ahead to head home, since the Parks department needed to do some heavy brainstorming), Allison sighs. “I got a call from the guys upstairs,” she says plainly, and Isaac stops mid-step. Allison pulls him over to the side of the stairs. “They have a new assignment for us.”

Swallowing, Isaac says, “Okay.”

Allison nods. “Yeah,” she sighs. “But I feel like… we should ask for an extension. To stay here.”

“Yes, definitely,” Isaac agrees immediately, thinking of wavy brown hair and brown eyes and a crooked jaw. “You know, because, the festival is getting… pretty big.” Allison grins and starts nodding enthusiastically. “And a couple loose ends need, uh, some tying up.”

“So, I’ll make the call then?” she asks. “To get the extension? To… tie up the loose ends?” He nods. “Great,” she says, with a brilliant smile. “Great.”

**Author's Note:**

> leslie - scott
> 
> ben - isaac
> 
> ann - stiles
> 
> chris - allison
> 
> april - malia
> 
> andy - kira
> 
> tom - erica
> 
> jean-ralphio - aiden
> 
> lucy - boyd
> 
> donna - lydia
> 
> jerry/gary - jackson (obvi)
> 
> mrs. gergich - danny
> 
> mark - theo
> 
> and, of course, ron - derek


End file.
